The Enticement
by Scattered Logic
Summary: In exchange for returning to the Labyrinth, Sarah is offered what she desires most... She's about to learn there is a huge difference between fantasy and reality.
1. A Bargain Struck

The Enticement

by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


Author's Note: A huge thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her beta skills, thoughts and suggestions regarding this story. And special thanks to Cormak and The Hooded Crow for patiently answering questions and explaining art technique and supplies to this very artistically challenged author. Any errors regarding those subjects are mine alone.

--------------------------------   


"Sarah, I've got another offer for the paintings." Jean's voice took on an odd echo through Sarah's cheap cordless phone.   


"No," Sarah said immediately.   


"I don't mean to be a bitch about this, but I know you need the money. I don't understand why you won't sell this series."   


Sarah sighed. "And I don't understand why you keep showing them when you know I won't sell them. I want you to _store_ them, not show them."   


"I own a gallery, sweetie, selling art is what I _do_. And if you don't want to sell them, then why paint them in the first place?" Jean asked, impatiently. "You don't keep them for your own enjoyment. You obsess over each one and then get them out of your sight as soon as they're finished."   


"I don't obsess," Sarah protested.   


"Bullshit. You barely ate or slept while you painted those. You lost weight and got dark circles under your eyes. By the time each of those paintings were finished you looked like hell, kid." Jean's voice softened. "They're your best work, Sarah. I'm not denying that. Each of them is brilliant. But what's the point if you won't share?"   


"I won't sell them," Sarah said quietly.   


"There's a lot of interest in them. You're starting to build a name in fantasy illustration and while these paintings have some fantasy elements, they're _portraits_. For you, that makes this series a rarity. Rarities sell."  


"No." Sarah rolled her eyes.   


"You've never used a model on anything else. And you won't even tell me who he is," Jean said with a slightly hurt tone.   


"Because it doesn't matter. I haven't seen him in years." Sarah hesitated. "And I won't ever see him again."   


"Oh, Hon, was it a love affair gone bad? Is that it? That's got to be it. Why else would you keep painting the same man's portrait over and over again?" Jean was cajoling.   


"Drop it, Jean." Sarah's voice went flat.   


The gallery owner paid no attention. "Ah, c'mon, Sarah, it's pretty obvious. I mean, you made him a king. How Freudian is that? The Goblin King... Yeah, right. The king of hearts is more like it."   


Without another word, Sarah hung up the phone.   


It _wasn't_ an obsession. But how else could she explain the compulsion she'd had to paint those portraits? She would go for months and everything would be fine. Then suddenly she'd be driven from her bed in the middle of the night with an image that she had to get down on paper. She could sleep a bit after the initial sketch was done. But the next night would find her finishing the sketch and priming the canvas, and in the following weeks and months, the portrait would take shape.

To her chagrin, she found that watercolors or acrylics wouldn't do. The initial sketches in pencil were fine. But the portrait had to be done in oils. They were so hard to work with, but oil paints had a depth of color and a richness that the other mediums couldn't touch.   


Why wasn't she surprised that _his_ portraits would require that?   


"Jean's giving you a hard time again?" Gary's words shook Sarah out of her reverie.   


Sarah glanced ruefully at her friend and went back to rubbing the turpentine soaked rag over her fingers. "Doesn't she always?"   


Gary snorted. "You'd better not let her know that you've finished another one." He leaned back in his chair and gestured toward the wet painting across the room. "The guy's gorgeous, I'll give you that. Not _my_ type, of course, I prefer them dark. But all in all, he's got potential."   


Sarah smiled faintly, "Trust me, he'd be anybody's type. There was something so... seductive about him."   


"You still think that was real, don't you?" Gary shook his head at her.   


"It was real," Sarah said firmly. "I know you don't believe me. I don't even know why I told you about it."   


"You told me because I'm your best friend, your trusted confidante." Gary laughed, "And because you were totally shit-faced and you spilled your guts. I know all your dirty little secrets."  


"It was the first time I'd ever been drunk," Sarah smiled, slightly abashed. "And the last time, I might add."   


"Coward," Gary grinned.   


Sarah laughed. "No, I just learned my lesson."   


"So, what's the real reason you won't sell them?" Gary steered the conversation back to the paintings.   


"I just... I just can't," Sarah said, turning to look at the painting.   


"Oh, Sarah, when are you going to give up your crush on this imaginary King?" Gary asked quietly. "You need to find some nice guy to whisk you away to the 'burbs and give you the obligatory 2.5 children and one annoyingly large, slobbery dog."   


"The Goblin King isn't imaginary," Sarah insisted. "And I don't have a crush on him."   


"Keep telling yourself that and maybe someday you'll believe it."   


"Well, I don't meet a lot of people," Sarah said defensively, "and I don't see you introducing me to any nice guys."   


"I don't know any straight guys." Gary narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "And I don't know any _nice_ guys at all," he concluded dryly.   


--------------------------------   


"Aren't you going to decorate for Christmas?" Gary asked as he stirred the vegetable soup simmering on Sarah's stove. He waved the spoon in the general direction of his apartment overhead. "I've got all my decorations up."   


"No, I'm not," Sarah answered. She took soup bowls from the cabinet and placed them on the tiny kitchen table. "I haven't decorated for Christmas since..." Her voice trailed off as she opened a drawer, searching for soupspoons.   


"That was four years ago," Gary said quietly. "You've got to start letting that go."   


Sarah slammed the drawer shut and clenched her teeth. "That's so easy to say. 'Let it go.' Well, you weren't there. You weren't the one who had to take down all those decorations. And you certainly weren't the one who had to bury my little brother, father and stepmother on Christmas Eve."

"It wasn't your fault, Sarah." Gary carefully covered the pot and then put his hand on her shoulder.   


"I know that," she snapped and shrugged off his hand. "The furnace malfunctioned. It was nobody's fault."   


"That's not what I meant." Gary shook his head. "It wasn't your fault that you didn't die, too."   


"Not again," Sarah warned. "Let's not do this again." She tossed the spoons in the bowls with a clatter.

"Survivor's guilt is a real thing," Gary persisted. "God knows that I've had to deal with it. I've lost too many friends to AIDS. Too many people that I cared about. You start feeling guilty because you're still alive and they're not. You wonder why them and not you?"   


"I just keep thinking that maybe if I'd been home, things would have been different," Sarah whispered.   


"It was carbon monoxide poisoning. You couldn't have saved them," he said gently. "This may sound callous, Sarah, but at least they didn't suffer. They went to sleep and they just didn't wake up. You didn't have to visit them in the hospital for weeks on end, watching them struggle with pneumonia or dementia or lymphoma."   


"I know that." Tears filled her eyes. "And maybe it should make me feel better, but it doesn't. At least with your friends, you had a chance to say goodbye."   


Gary shook his head wearily. "I guess it's a tradeoff, isn't it?" He gave a crooked smile. "Well, let's stop depressing each other, shall we? We need a major change of topic. Why don't you change your mind and come with me? Gran wouldn't mind."  


"Nope, you said she was looking forward to spending time with you. I'm not going to butt in." Sarah smiled. "What time is your train?"  


Gary looked at his watch. "In two hours."  


"Are you sure you don't want me to play chauffeur and drive you instead? Stamford's not that far."  


Gary clutched his chest and gasped.  


"What's wrong?" Sarah asked quickly. 

Gary straightened up and smiled. "Nothing, I'm just always so surprised when you remind me that you've got a car. I keep telling you, Sarah, no true New Yorker keeps a car. Besides, the garage fee has to be eating you alive."   


"It's expensive," she admitted. "But I like being able to go to the cabin whenever I want. You certainly didn't seem to mind that I have a car when we drove up there for the Fourth of July weekend."   


Gary grinned. "That was fun. I met that really cute guy at Blue Mountain Lake."   


Sarah shook her head, "And then you dragged him and all those other people I'd never seen before back to the cabin for a party."   


"Oh, you had a good time," Gary admonished, "admit it." He sobered. "You still think you may have to sell the cabin?"   


"Probably. I just can't afford the taxes and the upkeep," Sarah said quietly. "My grandfather lived there for the last twelve years of his life. He could get a homestead exemption. I can't." She shook her head and changed the subject. "Your grandmother's going to be thrilled to have you all to herself. It's too bad you can't spent more time with her."   


"Yeah, can you believe it? Seventy-three years old and she's spending Christmas in Vegas with a senior citizen's group."  
  
"At least she'll have a good time." Sarah grinned.   


Gary chuckled. "You know what she wants for Christmas?"   


Sarah shook her head.   


"Gambling money," Gary said wryly.   


Sarah laughed. "Well, I have to admit that I'm glad you're going to spend Christmas with me."  


Gary cuffed her lightly on the side of the head. "Me, too. So, are we going to eat? Because the soup is ready and I'm starved."   


--------------------------------   


"Okay, I'll be back tomorrow afternoon and you've already got an extra key to my place in case anything comes up, but here's the key to Steve's apartment." Gary's voice broke slightly. "When you're finished, just put the key through the super's door, okay?"   


Sarah took the key from Gary and nodded slightly.   


"I appreciate you taking Steve's clothes to the homeless shelter for me," Gary said quietly. "I managed to take care of everything else, but when it came time to get rid of his clothes, it just made it too real."   


"You were a good friend to him," Sarah said softly. "I understand why he made you the executor of his will. You've really tried to take care of things the way he wanted."   


Gary smiled faintly. "Well, he said to give his clothes to somebody who needed them. Hell, he'd wear the same pair of jeans and a t-shirt until they fell apart. By the time I sorted through everything, there were only two boxes of stuff I thought was salvageable. Some suits and shirts, a few jackets. And all of _that_ was stuff somebody else gave him."  


Gary's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Steve had the worst fashion sense of anyone I've ever met." He gave a strangled laugh and then was he was crying.   


Sarah put her arms around him and hugged him as the tears streamed down his face.   


--------------------------------   


After Gary had left, Sarah put away the leftovers and washed the dishes. She went back into the spare bedroom that she used as a studio and finished cleaning up. She checked again to insure that the caps were tightly closed on the paints, linseed oil and turpentine. She couldn't afford to be careless, supplies were too expensive.  


Sarah stopped and looked at the painting she'd completed earlier that evening. The Goblin King stood flanked by fawning admirers, but he ignored them completely. He looked out of the canvas with an intense gaze, commanding attention.   


As she examined the portrait, a fleeting melody drifted through her mind and she shook her head sadly. Her dance with the Goblin King had surely been only a drugged dream. While she knew--_knew_--that the Underground, the Goblin King and her friends existed, she somehow didn't believe that she had ever actually danced with him.   


Sarah felt a pang of guilt when she thought of Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus. She'd stopped calling them a few months after her adventure had ended. She had become caught up in school events and, to her surprise, had even begun casually dating.   


Before she knew it, she was off to college and while she struggled through her freshman year and the culture shock that it brought, there had certainly been no time for her friends.   


And then early during her sophomore year, her life had been shattered by a midmorning visit from an apologetic campus policeman who stood in her dorm room awkwardly clutching a slip of paper that bore a terrible message. The next two days had passed in a fog and suddenly Sarah had found herself completely alone.   


The night of the funeral, she'd stood in front of the mirror in her old bedroom and opened her mouth to call her friends when an overwhelming sense of terror swept through her. What if she had waited too long? What if they didn't come?   


Finally, she had turned away from the mirror, the words unspoken. She'd lost too many people to face the possibility that she had lost them, too. In this case, she decided, it was simply better not to know.   


Sarah shook off those thoughts and turned from the painting. She deserved a treat for finishing the portrait, she thought. She went back to the kitchen to pour a glass of milk and to dig through her secret stash of candy. She had to hide the candy from Gary or she found herself left with empty boxes and IOU's promising to replace it. She smiled to herself; he never did.   


She ate her candy and took a look at the clock. It was after midnight. She quickly finished the milk and rinsed out the glass. She decided to shower in the morning and, once in her bedroom, she changed into the t-shirt she usually wore to bed and was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.   


--------------------------------   


Sarah knew that she was dreaming; there was no doubt of it. She even knew _why_ she was dreaming about this place. Between Gary's earlier teasing and working on the portrait, it was inevitable, she thought. Well, that and the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups she'd eaten before going to bed.  


Once again Sarah found herself standing in that ballroom. But this time there were no other dancers, no elusive Goblin King. This time, she was alone. She glanced down and saw that she was wearing the same frilly confection she had worn once before. She slowly turned full circle, her eyes searching the shadows at the edges of the room, but she could see no one.   


"We are incomplete," a disembodied voice said.   


Startled, she looked around the room again. She didn't recognize the voice. It certainly didn't have the crisp tones of the Goblin King. Who had spoken? No, her mind instantly corrected, not _spoken_. At least, not aloud, but she had heard the voice all the same. In the vague way of dreams, she acknowledged this oddity as an acceptable occurrence.   


"Who's there?" she called out. "Who are you?"   


"You must return," the silent voice spoke again.   


"Return?" A nebulous sense of fear took shape in the pit of her stomach. "Return where?"   


"To us."   


"You mean to the Underground," she said flatly. "I don't think so."   


"We are incomplete," the voice continued, undeterred. "You must return to us. You must not defy us."   


"Who is "us"?" she demanded, the fear becoming an iron weight.   


"We will strike a bargain."

"No, thanks," she said quickly. "Bargains in the Underground have a way of evolving into something else at the last minute."   


The voice took on a tempting quality. "We will give you what you desire most."   


"What I desire most?" Sarah asked incredulously. "I don't even know what that is."   


"_We_ know. We will give you what you desire most. In exchange, you will return to us. You will not defy us." The voice was adamant.   


She began to shake her head and then suddenly laughed. 'What am I doing?' she thought. 'This is a dream. My subconscious is trying to tell me something and I'm standing here arguing with myself.'   


Curious about what her subconscious mind considered to be what she "desired most," Sarah nodded. 'Why not?' she thought. 'It's only a dream.'   


"Okay, sure," she said with a grin. "It's a deal. Give me what I desire most and I'll return to you."   


The voice took on a self-satisfied tone. "Done."   


With that, the ballroom began to dissolve and...   


Sarah was blinking sleepily in her darkened bedroom.   


"Damn," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Just when it was getting to the good part."   


She rolled over and focused on the softly glowing numbers on the bedside clock.   
  
4:21 a.m.   


"No more candy before bed," she muttered. It made her dream strange things, she thought. Besides, it made her thirsty.

She slipped out of bed and went into the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, she took a few sips before realizing that she'd forgotten to turn down the heat again before going to sleep. She was going to have an astronomical heating bill if she wasn't more careful.   


Adjusting the thermostat, she decided to take one more look at the portrait before going back to bed. Wandering through the dark living room, she flipped on a table lamp and took a few steps before she realized that something was very, very wrong.   


There was someone lying on her sofa.   


Before her mind processed the fact that being quiet and getting out of the apartment was probably the safest thing to do, she'd already let out a bloodcurdling scream. She stumbled back as the person abruptly turned toward her and promptly fell off the sofa.   


As the man scrambled into a crouch, Sarah continued backing away, her heart pounding and her breath coming in harsh gasps. Sarah began shaking her head from side to side. It wasn't possible. What was going on?   


--------------------------------   


Jareth dreamt he was sitting on his throne while the Labyrinth spoke to him in its silent all-encompassing voice.   


"We are incomplete."   


Jareth stiffened as the voice whispered through his mind.   


"It is too soon," Jareth replied. "We have been over this repeatedly."   


"You must bring her to us," the voice replied insistently.   


"Do you want a repeat of that last debacle?" Jareth asked coldly. "Allow the girl time to mature."   


The voice was quiet for a moment and then it said, "We have seen her. She is a woman now. With a woman's dreams. We are incomplete. You must bring her to us."   


Jareth shook his head. If the Labyrinth had begun watching her, things had progressed far more quickly than he had anticipated. If he wasn't careful, things could get out of hand.

"Just a bit more time," Jareth placated, "in order to be certain. If I bring her back too quickly, she will fight us both. And I will not force her."   


There was a long pause and Jareth could feel the Labyrinth contemplating his words.   


"She must agree," the Labyrinth finally conceded in that silent voice.   


"Then it is settled," Jareth said firmly.   


"No," a tinge of regret filtered into the voice. "We have waited for you to bring her to us. We understand your reluctance but we are incomplete. You will bring her to us when you have--"   


A loud shriek ripped through Jareth's consciousness, jolting him from his dream. His eyes flew open and he automatically turned toward the sound. He had a disorienting split second to realize that he was no longer safely ensconced in his bed before he fell off the edge of whatever he had been lying on and landed on a hard wooden surface with a jarring thud.   


Defensive instincts kicking in, he quickly rolled into a crouch and prepared to push himself to his feet. Several impressions flashed through his mind instantaneously. He had no idea where he was but this was certainly not his spacious bedchamber. The room he was now in was small and lighted only by a lamp on a nearby table.   


Before him stood a woman. Her shapely legs were bare and she wore a faded black shirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs. Long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and her hands were shaking where she held them out as if to ward him off. Her full lips were parted in a gasp and clear, black fringed hazel eyes were open wide with shock. He took a good look at her face and quickly rose to his feet.   
  
"No," she whispered. "Nonononono. This is not happening." She continued backing away from him, shaking her head until she bumped into the wall across the room.   


"Sarah?" Jareth asked in disbelief.   


"Oh, god, I've lost my mind," Sarah gasped.  


"Where is this place?" Jareth demanded, looking around the room quickly. "How did you bring me here?" His eyes narrowed and he advanced on her.  


Sarah pressed her back more firmly against the wall, her eyes growing huge as he approached her. Suddenly, she seemed to find her courage. She straightened her spine and stuck her forefinger in his face.   


"You're not really here," she accused. "So go away."   


"Of course I'm here," he snapped. His hands shot out and grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers biting hard into her flesh. "How did you do this?"   


"No, I'm still dreaming," she insisted frantically. "Ow! You're hurting me!"   


His hands relaxed fractionally. "You stupid girl, you are not dreaming," he said contemptuously.   


Jareth suddenly froze as he remembered that he _had_ been dreaming. The Labyrinth had obviously sent him here to bring Sarah back. He cursed under his breath and released her.   


There was nothing to be done for it now, he thought darkly. He'd take the girl and deal with the Labyrinth after they had returned to the Underground. He turned his wrist and then looked down at his hand in surprise. There was no crystal. He repeated the motion and still nothing happened.   


With dawning horror, Jareth reached out with his mind, seeking his link to the Underground. He could sense it. He knew it was there, but he couldn't reach it. Something has closed off his ability to connect to the magic. Shaking his head, he concentrated and tried again, forcing himself to relax and call out to the link. Again, there was no answer.  


At this knowledge, his legs went weak and he staggered back gracelessly to sit on Sarah's sofa.  


It wasn't possible and yet it had happened.  


The Labyrinth had blocked his magic.  


He was powerless.  


-------------------------------- 


	2. An Embarrassing Realization

The Enticement

by Scattered Logic 

Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine. 

Author's Note: As always, thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her beta skills, thoughts and suggestions regarding this story. And special thanks to Cormak and The Hooded Crow for patiently answering questions and explaining art technique and supplies to this very artistically challenged author. Any errors regarding those subjects are mine alone.

-------------------------------- 

When the Goblin King..._Jareth_, her mind whispered...retreated to the sofa, Sarah allowed herself to take a good look at him. Her eyebrows shot up as she realized that he was half-dressed. He wore only a pair of loose white pants with a drawstring waist and they were made of a soft looking material. His hands were devoid of his usual gloves and his feet were bare. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted over him slowly. She bit her lip as she glanced at his lightly muscled chest and shoulders.

His silky blond hair seemed longer than she remembered, but other than that, he hadn't changed. She'd had such an infatuation with him when she was younger. He'd been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and for years she'd had girlish fantasies in which he danced with her, held her, loved her. And as much as she hated to admit it, when she had gotten a bit older, those fantasies had become much more erotic in nature. 

Her eyes met his mismatched eyes and saw that he was glaring at her. She blushed bright red as she realized that she'd been caught blatantly looking him over. 

Sarah cleared her throat and crossed her arms defensively. "To answer your questions, you're in my apartment and I have nothing to do with you being here." She frowned. "And don't call me names." 

He remained silent and looked away from her, his eyes roaming around the room. 

Sarah finally couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Since I didn't bring you here, and you don't know how you got here, then what's going on? And more importantly, why don't you just go home?" 

"If I could," he bit out, "I most certainly would." 

"What do you mean?" she asked, dread rising within her. 

"I have no magic. My connection with the Underground has been obstructed," he said tonelessly. "The Labyrinth is blocking my magic." 

"Why?" she cried. "And how is that even possible? It's just a maze." 

He gave her a derisive glance. "The Labyrinth is a creature with a will and a mind of its own. A rather simple mind in some respects, but it is sentient." 

"Okay," Sarah said slowly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Why is it blocking your magic?" 

"If I knew that, do you think I would be sitting here?" he sneered. "I would correct the situation and we would be gone." 

"We?" Sarah asked suspiciously. "What do you mean--we?" 

Jareth sighed heavily. "Because you were the first to defeat the Labyrinth, you were given the gift of a small amount of magic to bond you with the Underground, to bond you with the Labyrinth itself. And now the Labyrinth wants you to return, to bring that magic back to it. It is incomplete without it."

__

We are incomplete. 

"Oh, my god," Sarah murmured. Stunned, she sank into a nearby armchair and stared at her hands fidgeting in her lap. "That dream." 

"What dream?" Jareth asked sharply. 

"I was dreaming just before I came in here and found you. I was back in the Underground and there was a voice saying that it was incomplete. That I had to return. It said..." her voice trailed off. 

__

We will give you what you desire most. 

Sarah's breath left her lungs in a whoosh. Slowly, she looked over at the Goblin King. 'Oh, my god,' she thought, '_what I desire most._' 

"Well?" he demanded impatiently. "It said what?" 

Sarah swung violently between the urge giggle madly and the impulse to burst into tears. She dug her fingernails into her palms and fought to at least appear in control. 

Jareth rose and stood in front of her. "What did it say?" His voice was cold. 

'There's no way I'm telling him,' she thought as she looked up at him towering over her. 'First he'd laugh at me and then he'd kill me. Or maybe he'd just laugh _while_ he killed me.'

"It said that I had to return and that I wasn't to defy it," she forced out. "That it was incomplete. I didn't know what it meant." 

He shook his head. "You will have to return as soon as I can manage to transport us back to the Underground." 

Before it occurred to her that yelling at the Goblin King was probably extremely high on the list of things that could be classified as very bad ideas, Sarah was on her feet and in his face.

"Why?" Her eyes narrowed. "Why do I have to go back? I _won_. When you showed up and did that whole "you have thirteen hours" thing, you didn't say one damn word about me having to go back _if I won_." 

"You weren't supposed to leave," he snapped. "You were supposed to stay willingly. But you were far too immature to understand even that simple fact." 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

Jareth grimaced. "You were to stay and rule the Labyrinth. With me." 

"What?" 

"The Labyrinth is fairly simple-minded but it is very powerful. And it is intelligent enough to know that it needs someone who can focus that power and care for it and its inhabitants. For millennia my family has been linked to the Labyrinth, the eldest son taking on the position of King when he reaches the age of ascension. However, I have no queen. No son. The Labyrinth sought to correct that situation by selecting a queen for me." 

"And it picked me?" Sarah squeaked and sank back down into the chair.

"As I said, you were the first to win," Jareth said evenly. "The first to pass the Labyrinth's test." 

"You mean all that hell I went through was an _audition_?" Sarah was stunned. "But why can't you just find your own wife? There have to be other... other whatever you are. Surely one of them would marry you." 

"The Goblin Kingdom is not prestigious enough to satisfy any of the other fae royalty," Jareth said. The faintest note of bitterness crept into this voice as he spoke.

Something occurred to Sarah. "But I thought I won by refusing my dreams. How could I have stayed _and_ won?" 

Jareth shook his head and threw up his hands. "When I told you how to retrieve the child, what _exactly_ did I tell you?" 

"You have thirteen hours in which to solve the labyrinth before your baby brother becomes one of us forever," Sarah recited, unconsciously mimicking his accent. 

Jareth rolled his eyes. "And you solved it. You reached your brother when you took that final leap." 

"And so the rest of it, all that stuff at the end, that "Fear me, love me, do as I say," was...what? Your attempt at proposing to me?" Sarah was incredulous. 

"As I said," Jareth gritted out, "you were far too immature to realize what was being offered." 

"Well, you weren't very clear," Sarah snapped. "I can understand why you've got a maze fixing you up with women. You obviously don't know how to go about it."

A cold smile appeared on his face and he leaned down, resting his hands on the arms of her chair, and looked into her eyes. "I see that you still take everything at face value. I have no difficulty in finding women, little girl," he taunted. "And I know quite a lot about "going about it" as you so charmingly put it."

Sarah flushed and then mentally kicked herself for reacting. Jareth's eyes gleamed in triumph and he laughed softly before moving away from her. 

"There has to be some way out of this," she muttered. 

"Your enthusiasm is so flattering," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

She glanced up at him and choked down a nasty reply. He had to be just as confused about all this as she was. 'More confused,' her mind scolded, '_he_ doesn't know the truth about your dream.'

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice softening. "I didn't mean to sound offensive. But what I don't understand is why now? It's been eight years..." her voice trailed off. 

"For a being that was ancient long before your ancestors decided that perhaps their world wasn't flat," Jareth sneered, "eight years is the equivalent of eight minutes."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't climb up so far up on that high horse, if I were you. I notice that you're stuck here with no way to get back. What did you do to piss it off?" 

"It wanted you back immediately." Jareth glanced away from her. "I refrained from removing you from this world. Apparently, the Labyrinth became impatient." 

"Refrained," she echoed. She'd seen him look away. "You mean you didn't want me there," she said flatly. 

His cold eyes locked with hers. "Why would I have wanted you there?" 

She blinked at the surprising amount of pain his question caused. So much for her girlish fantasies, she thought. 

"If the Labyrinth wants me back so badly, then why won't it let you take me back?" she asked wearily. "Why is it blocking your magic?" 

He hesitated; he loathed being forced to acknowledge this particular truth. Finally he admitted softly, "I do not know." 

-------------------------------- 

In the extended silence that followed his admission, Sarah finally rose and said, "Wait here." 

Jareth glanced up as she left the room and was treated to a glimpse of her rounded bottom covered by a pair of plain white underpants. Even as he watched, she reached back and firmly tugged her shirt down. 

He smirked briefly. As angry and bewildered as he was by the current situation, it hadn't escaped his notice that Sarah had grown to be a beautiful woman. He might have appreciated the view more if he wasn't so baffled over why he was trapped here. 

The Labyrinth had never rebelled against him before. He went over the dream in his mind, searching for clues as to why it would do so now. 

__

You will bring her to us when you have-- 

"When I have done what?" he asked aloud. "What is it that you want of me?" 

He waited a moment and concentrated, searching for the link to the Underground. He growled in frustration when once again he was thwarted. 

In a few minutes, Sarah returned wearing a long pale pink robe and slippers. She tossed a shirt at him and he caught it, looking at it in surprise. 

"I've turned the heat back up but I thought you might be cold. This is the only thing I have that should fit you," she said. 

He held up the oversized long-sleeved garment and looked at it. It was blue and gray and made of a soft material with a fleecy underside. The words Columbia University were emblazoned across the front. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Your alma mater?" he drawled as he pulled the shirt over his head. 

She nodded and then tossed a balled up pair of socks to him. 

"These are Gary's," she said. "They got mixed in with my laundry." 

"Gary?" Jareth asked. "Is he a suitor?"

Sarah shook her head and smiled the first genuine smile that Jareth had ever seen her give. She was really quite lovely when she wasn't scowling or pouting. 

"Gary's my friend," she said simply. Sarah gestured toward the kitchen. "I doubt that either of us can go back to sleep. So, I'm going to make tea. Unless you'd rather have coffee." 

Jareth frowned. "Coffee? I've heard of it, but I have never tasted it." 

"If you've never had it, you probably wouldn't like it," she said. "It's an acquired taste. I don't care for it myself but I keep it for Gary." 

"Tea, then. I take it plain," Jareth said and began pulling the socks onto his feet. 

Sarah shook her head slightly and murmured, "You're welcome," before going into the kitchen. 

While Sarah was making the tea, Jareth rose and began looking around her living room. The furnishings were comfortable but sparse. A bookshelf drew his attention and he examined her collection of books. Most had titles that didn't interest him, but he found a small selection on a lower shelf very intriguing. A small battered red book entitled "The Labyrinth" was there, pushed almost to the back of the shelf as if to hide it. Jareth didn't need to look at that book; he knew its contents and he had absolutely no wish to read about a heroine conquering a king. However, beside it were a few other books bearing such titles as "Fantasy in Art," "Legendary Celtic Creatures," and "The World of Irish Mythology." 

Out of idle curiosity, he opened "Dwarves, Trolls and Goblins: An Illustrated History" and flipped to the section on goblins. His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the large illustration that fronted that segment of the book. There, rendered in exquisite detail, were several of his subjects. A small notation at the bottom of the page indicated that the illustration was the work of Sarah Williams. Jareth quickly flipped back to the section on dwarves and there was Hoggle, complete with cap, vest and pouch of jewels. Again, credit for the illustration was given to Sarah Williams. 

He heard Sarah return to the room. Without turning, he said, "I thought you were going to be an actress." 

She walked over to him and held out a mug of tea. He placed the book back upon the shelf and took the tea from her. Returning to the sofa, he took a sip and cradled the mug in his hands, savoring the warmth. He refused to admit it to her but he was very cold. 

She sat in the armchair across from him, watching him warily. "I intended to be an actress, but it turned out that I was much better at art than at acting." 

"Your drawings are adequate," he said at last.

"Thank you," she said, frowning. "I think." 

"I assume that your artwork would explain the odor that permeates this place?" he asked with lifted brows. 

Sarah nodded. "It's the turpentine. I'm sorry, but the smell tends to linger." 

Once again, silence descended upon the room. 

Finally, Sarah asked softly, "I have a life here. My career is starting to take off. Isn't there some way that I can stay?" She swallowed hard and continued. "Since you don't want me there, couldn't you just leave me behind?" 

Jareth shook his head. "No. If the Labyrinth is determined to have you there, what I want will make no difference. If I leave you, it will simply take you on its own."

Her hands were shaking, he noted. Her calm exterior might be only a superficial pretense but she was endeavoring to hold it in place. Jareth had expected a temper tantrum complete with smashed crockery or tearful pleading followed by the detested, "It's not fair," so he was surprised when she merely nodded and looked down into her tea. Sarah had grown to be far stronger than he'd realized, he grudgingly admitted. 

"What are you going to do?" she asked softly. "Have you figured out why the Labyrinth won't let you go back?" 

"No," he said sharply. "In my dream, the Labyrinth said that it wanted me to bring you back after I'd done something. But your infernal shrieking awakened me before it could tell me what task I am expected to perform." 

Her eyes widened and then she looked away from him. Again, he was astonished. Where was her defense? Her acrimonious retort? 

"You said that the Labyrinth gave me a small amount of magic," Sarah said. "But I don't have any kind of magic." 

"Did you discover a new ability when you returned from the Underground?" Jareth asked impatiently. "Something that you weren't able to do previously?" 

Sarah began to shake her head and then stopped. "My artwork," she said. "I always liked art but was never very good at it. And then all of the sudden, it was like someone flipped a switch and I could draw." 

"Well, there it is, then," Jareth said. 

"When you said magic, I thought you meant something like transporting from place to place like you do or turning invisible." 

"It wouldn't have given you anything powerful," he said disdainfully. "Even the Labyrinth has better sense than to give potent magic to a human." 

Sarah gritted her teeth. "Well, apparently it has better sense than to give potent magic to a Goblin King, too." 

He gave a self-satisfied smirk. There was the Sarah that he remembered. He'd known that if he goaded her long enough, her childish nature would surface. However, before he could reply, her shoulders slumped and she rubbed at her eyes. 

"Look, I'm sorry," she said. "All we seem to be doing is sniping at one another and it's not helping. Why don't we try being civil for a while?" 

He arched an eyebrow in surprise. Was it possible that she had actually matured during the past years? After a long pause, he gave an abrupt nod. He would be as polite as the girl was, he decided, but no more so.

-------------------------------- 

"I'm going to make breakfast." Sarah gave a faint smile. "I'm not sure what to make for a Goblin King. Is bacon and eggs okay?" 

"That will be acceptable," Jareth answered stiffly. 

Sarah closed her eyes and sighed. The man obviously hated her. And she'd been silly enough to hope that he... Sarah forced that thought away. He wasn't really being rude but he certainly wasn't going out of his way to be pleasant, either. Oh well, she thought, two can play his game. 

She opened her eyes and then said, "I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name and I can't just keep calling you the Goblin King." 

"I am usually addressed as Your Majesty," he said in a cool voice. 

Sarah shook her head and said evenly, "Not in my home. Surely you have a name." 

For a moment, Jareth frowned but then looked slightly puzzled. "Hoggle told you my name." 

"He mentioned it, but I don't remember what it is," Sarah lied sweetly. "Sorry."

He looked somewhat insulted but Sarah was careful to keep her expression only politely inquisitive. 

"Jareth," he said, his tone clipped. "My name is Jareth." 

Sarah snapped her fingers. "That's right. Jareth. Well, since we don't know how long you're going to be here, I suppose we should think about getting you something more to wear than my old sweatshirt." She looked at him dubiously. "You wouldn't happen to know your sizes, would you?"

He arched an eyebrow and she shook her head.

"Of course you wouldn't," she sighed. "After breakfast, I'll run up to Gary's and borrow something of his until we can figure out what to do. He's out of town, he won't mind." Sarah looked Jareth over thoughtfully. "He's not as tall as you and he's a little heavier, but it will have to do for now." 

"Borrowed clothing?" Jareth burst out, looking horrified. 

"Right now, you don't have a choice," Sarah said with forced cheerfulness. "I have some errands to run later and I'll see about buying you some clothes of your own while I'm out." 

Without giving him a chance to answer, she stood and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. 

-------------------------------- 

As Sarah left the room, she hesitated and then touched a metal box sitting on a nearby table. In a moment, the sound of a Chopin prelude filled the air. 

Jareth rose and examined the box. Several small lights glowed on the front of it and the music seemed to be coming from two black fabric-covered boxes sitting beside the larger metal box. 

Sarah stuck her head back into the room. "Are scrambled eggs okay?" 

He nodded and gestured toward the boxes. "This is a radio?" 

"Yes," Sarah said. "I can turn it off if it bothers you." She reached out toward the box and he waved her hand away. 

"It does not distress me. I was merely curious," he said. 

"You've heard of coffee and radios," Sarah said slowly. "You knew that the bracelet I gave Hoggle was plastic. Do you have those things in the Underground?"

"No," Jareth said, "but my duties bring me into contact with humans. I have learned something of your world." 

"Your duties," Sarah said softly. "You mean taking children." 

"I take those who are wished away," Jareth said, his tone flat. "I do not take children at random." 

"I think it might be better if we left this conversation for another time," Sarah replied, her tone matching his. 

"Why? Because you still blame me for _your_ words? _Your_ actions?" Jareth pushed. 

Sarah's temper flared. "No," she said hotly. "You only did what I asked you to do. But you knew I didn't really mean it." 

"I had no choice," Jareth's voice went cold. 

"Oh, right," Sarah spat out. "The mighty Goblin King had no choice except to take my baby brother. You couldn't have shown a little compassion." 

"Not if I wanted to return to the Underground," Jareth snapped. 

"What?" Sarah asked, suddenly confused. 

"After the words are spoken, after a child is wished away, I cannot return to my world empty-handed. And no human is worth remaining in this place," he sneered.

"I... I didn't know," Sarah stammered. 

"There is a great deal that you do not know," he said sharply. 

She stared at him for a moment and then simply turned and went back into the kitchen. 

-------------------------------- 

Sarah slammed the package of bacon down on the counter and ripped it open. 

How was it possible, she wondered, that he could be such an ass and still make her feel bad? She'd defeated him. She'd won. So why did he always seem to have the upper hand? 

She reached out to put the skillet on the burner and stopped abruptly as she looked at the cast iron pan. He'd said he was fae. She wasn't certain, but wasn't iron supposed to be deadly to the fae? Sarah put the pan away and pulled out her porcelain-enameled skillet. Jareth might be a first class jerk, but it wasn't reason enough to kill him. 

'Not yet, anyway,' she muttered as she threw the bacon into the skillet. 

Sarah cracked eggs into a bowl and began to beat them viciously. Sighing, her thoughts turned to what Jareth had told her. In the years following her return from the Underground, Sarah had come to realize that the Goblin King had only done what she asked of him. But she hadn't been able to forgive him for taking Toby even when she had explained that she hadn't meant it, especially since she had begged Jareth not to do so. 

Now, however, she learned that he didn't have a choice. Once summoned, his only options were to take the child or be exiled from his home. So, Sarah wondered, why was Jareth stuck here now? Did it actually have anything to do with her dream? And if it did, then when Jareth had another dream conversation with the Labyrinth, would that damn maze tell on her?

Sarah shook her head as she placed a slice of bread in the toaster. This wasn't the time to think of all this. She had more pressing concerns. Like just how the hell was she going to get that painting out of the apartment without Jareth seeing it? After she'd lied about not remembering his name, the last thing she needed was for Jareth to see that she had painted his portrait. 

Sarah spooned the cooked eggs onto a plate and added the bacon as the toast popped up. She placed the plate and silverware on the kitchen table and laid out a paper napkin. 

She went back to the living room and saw that Jareth had found her portfolio and was flipping through the photos of her illustrations with an expression of surprise. She tensed instinctively and then forced herself to relax. There was nothing in it that wasn't safe for him to see. 

"Your breakfast is ready," she said quietly. 

Jareth glanced up at her and gestured toward the drawings. "These are from the Underground." 

She nodded. "Most of them are, yes. Some of them are just things I made up." 

"No," Jareth said, still flipping through the pages. "I have recognized all of these creatures and locations." 

"You just haven't gotten to the others, yet." Sarah shrugged. 

"Perhaps, but it seems odd that..." Jareth's voice trailed off and he stared at the drawing in front of him with a shocked expression. 

Sarah went over to the sofa and craned her neck to see what had startled him. It was a view of a large castle bedchamber complete with huge fireplace, a sitting area and lavish four-poster bed. The dark blue coverlet was folded back revealing rich cream colored linens. A black dressing gown with silver embroidery was thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed and a large painting depicting a moonlit mountainside hung on the stone wall to the right. 

"I did that for a man who wanted to commission a castle solar to illustrate a fantasy novel," Sarah said. "He kept telling me that it wasn't what he wanted and I kept insisting that it didn't need to be changed." Sarah grimaced at the memory. "I lost that commission. That was an expensive lesson in just how much artistic integrity can cost you." 

She waited for him to reply, but he said nothing. Finally, he looked up at her. 

"No, it doesn't need to be changed." His eyes narrowed. "Each detail is absolutely correct." 

"That's an odd way to put it." A small crease appeared between Sarah's eyebrows. "How do you know it's _correct_?"

"Because that is _my_ bedchamber," Jareth snarled. 

-------------------------------- 


	3. Reality Takes Its Toll

The Enticement

by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


--------------------------------   


"What?" Sarah gasped. "That's not possible. Maybe there's a resemblance but that's not your bedroom."   


"I know my own bedchamber," he insisted, "and this is it in every detail. The furnishings, the landscape on the wall, that's even my dressing gown."   


"It can't be. How could that happen?"   


"I do not know," Jareth snapped. "How did you come to draw this?"   


Stunned, Sarah sank down on the sofa beside him.   


"I told you, a man wanted a solar for an illustration," she answered slowly.   


"No, why did you draw this _specific_ room?" Jareth asked again. "What did you think while you drew this?"   


Sarah shrugged, confused. "I didn't really think about anything at all. I just wondered what a solar would look like and that's what I drew."   


Jareth handed her the portfolio. "Show me the other drawings, the ones that are things you made up."   


Sarah flipped through the book until she found a sketch she'd done of a garden. Tiny pixies made their homes among exotic flowers and plants. A clear stream that bubbled over amethyst, sapphire and ruby crystals fed a small pond containing small gold and silver fish.

"This is one of them," she said as she showed him the drawing.

"That is my private garden." Jareth clenched his jaw. "Although, it is certainly not infested with pixies," he continued with distaste.

Sarah shook her head, stunned. "No, that can't be," she whispered, "I made that up. I don't understand any of this."

"Apparently the Labyrinth has been communicating with you on some level," he bit out. "It has obviously been giving you images to use in your drawings." He looked furious. "Are there more?"

Sarah stared at him for a long moment, a small crease appearing between her eyes.   


"Just a minute," she said slowly.  


Sarah left the room and returned with smaller binder. "This was my first major commission. They're illustrations for a fantasy calendar about faeries." There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as she handed him the book.   


Jareth quickly looked through it. The binder contained drawings for each month of the year. The twelve illustrations were of beautiful fae women in a variety of poses ranging from the pastoral to the sensual.   


"These women are..." Jareth hesitated, "acquaintances of mine."   


Sarah stared at him.   


"Acquaintances," she repeated.   


"Yes," Jareth gave the faintest smirk.   


Sarah took one look at his face and understood very quickly.   


"_All_ of them?" she asked in disbelief. "Some of those illustrations have three or four women in them."   


Jareth shrugged. "They enjoy my company."   


"Yeah, I'll bet," Sarah said sarcastically.  


Jareth gave her a contemptuous glance. "I fail to see how it is any of your concern."   


Irrationally, fury swept through her and before she could stop herself, Sarah had snatched the binder from his hands and slammed it closed.   


"You're right. It's none of my business. I'll put this away," she snapped. "Your breakfast is getting cold. Eat it or throw it out, I don't really care."   


She jumped up and went toward her studio without a backward glance. Once there, she closed the door carefully, placed the binder on a shelf and then slumped wearily against the wall.  


Sarah knew exactly why she was so upset. It might have been aggravated by the fact that her original drawings were apparently not very original, but what had truly angered her was the sudden and illogical jealousy that she'd felt over those women. It had only been a flash, but it had been so strong that it made her sick to her stomach. In that instant, she had been forced to admit to herself that Gary had been right all along. She did have a crush on Jareth.

However, she thought, the operative word in that sentence was the past tense "did." Jareth was arrogant, surly and apparently promiscuous, and he'd managed to shatter every last one of her romantic illusions in the span of a few hours.  


Jareth could not know that she had ever harbored such feelings for him. She wouldn't go through that embarrassment. The truth of the matter was that she had never really known Jareth at all and everything she had felt had been totally and completely unrealistic.  


Hot tears filled her eyes but she quickly blinked them away.   


"I was an idiotic little girl who projected her fantasies onto him because he's so beautiful," she whispered to herself as she shook her head. "How stupid is that?"   


She took a deep breath and walked back into the living room. She was surprised to see Jareth still sitting there. She had expected him to go into the kitchen to eat.   


"Don't you want your breakfast?" she asked coolly.  


He fixed her with a curious gaze. "Why are you angry?"  


Sarah looked away from him. "I'm just having a really, _really_ bad day," she finally said.  


--------------------------------   


They'd moved into the kitchen and Jareth began eating the breakfast that Sarah had made. She sat across from him, her head ducked down, staring pensively into her tea. She had prepared no food for herself he noted and then shrugged slightly. It was of no consequence to him whether the woman ate or not. However, he supposed that he should make an effort at civility. He laid aside his silverware.  


"I can understand that this situation is upsetting to you..." he began.  


Her head shot up and her eyes locked with his. "Can you?" Her tone was bitter. "Out of the clear blue, I wake up and find you asleep on my sofa. Then I find out that I'm supposed to leave my entire life behind and go back to the Underground with a man who, at best, dislikes me and, at worst, hates me. Next, I find out that my entire career is a lie. My talent and the work that I've been doing all belong to the Labyrinth. They're not mine at all."  


Sarah dropped her eyes and went back to staring at her tea. "And we don't really know why you're here or why you can't get back home."   


"Your sense of self-importance is too great," he said coolly. "I certainly do not hate you. I neither like nor dislike you. I do not know enough about you to make either choice."   


Even as he spoke, an idea occurred to him. Perhaps that was why the Labyrinth had left him in this awful place. The more he thought about it, the more sense the supposition made. In many ways, the Labyrinth had the mind of a child. If it perceived that their unfamiliarity with each other was an obstacle to its needs, then it might seek to remedy the situation by compelling them to learn about one another. All of Sarah's original drawings had been glimpses into his life, even into his relationships. Had the Labyrinth been attempting to teach her about him?

Jareth carefully studied the woman sitting across the table from him. If the Labyrinth required that he learn about Sarah in order to return home, then he would do so. But there was no need for her to discover anything more about him than was absolutely necessary. His life had already been violated far more than he could abide.   


Sarah glanced up from her tea and caught his eyes.   


"What?" she asked.  


He simply shook his head and returned to eating his meal. He heard her sigh, but he didn't look up.  


"I'll go up to Gary's apartment and get you something to wear," Sarah said.  


"I usually bathe before I dress," he said. He was irritated at already being forced to tell her something so personal.  


"Fine," she said, frowning at his tone. "I'll change while you finish eating and then I'll give you a tour of the bathroom. You can take a shower or have a bath while I go to Gary's."  


--------------------------------   


Sarah set out fresh towels and a washcloth and tried to give Jareth a quick overview of the bathroom plumbing.  


"This building was originally a house that was divided up into apartments. When they did that, they installed individual hot water tanks. The water can get hot very quickly, so be careful not to burn yourself," she warned.  


"I am not a child," he said testily. "I am capable of bathing without injuring myself."  


Sarah forced herself to remain calm and continued as if he hadn't spoken.  


"If you decide to take a shower, you can adjust the showerhead by turning the ring on the outside of it. There's shampoo, conditioner and soap in the shower caddy." She pointed to the rack hanging from the shower pipe.  


"Your bathing area is quite small, isn't it?" His tone was imperious as he looked around the room. "It's really very cramped."  


Sarah gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. She tugged on the shower curtain and when the rings jangled harshly against the shower rod, she hastily loosened her grip before she pulled it off the rod.  


"If you take a shower, put this inside the tub. Even if you take a bath, you should close the curtain. When I get back from Gary's, I'll knock and then put the clothes on the counter by the sink."  


"You will not enter this room until I have left it," he said sharply. "I will have my privacy."  


At that, her tenuous grasp on self-restraint snapped.  


"Fine. I was trying to be nice but it doesn't matter to me," she spat out. "Just put on the same clothes after you've had a bath or stay in here and drown for all I care. You may be lord and master of all you survey in the Underground but this is _my_ home and I don't have to put up with a lot of crap from you. I didn't bring you here and I don't like this any more than you do. _This is not my fault_, so stop taking it out on me."

Sarah whirled and slammed the bathroom door closed behind her. She stomped into the living room and stood with her hands on her hips waiting for Jareth to either come out to argue or try to throttle her. To her amazement, neither occurred and all she heard was the sound of water beginning to run in the bathroom.  


She huffed out a surprised breath and then realized that this was her opportunity. She stuffed the extra keys to Gary's apartment into her pocket and raced into her studio. Grasping Jareth's portrait by the edges of the canvas, Sarah carefully lifted it from the easel. Holding the wet canvas stiffly away from her body, she carried it upstairs as quickly as possible.  


She leaned it against the wall while she wrestled Gary's door open and then took the painting inside. She flipped on the light and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the empty easel in the corner. Gary dabbled in painting as a creative outlet and she had been afraid that his easel would already be occupied with one of his wildly colorful and surrealistic canvases.  


Sarah settled the portrait on the easel and went into Gary's bedroom. They had long ago become comfortable enough to share duties on laundry day, so she knew that all his sweat suits were kept folded in the top drawer of his dresser. Grabbing a matching dark navy set, Sarah hesitated as the thought of underwear occurred to her.  


She suddenly smirked to herself. If the fastidious Goblin King had disliked the idea of wearing borrowed clothing, he would have a fit over being told to wear borrowed underwear. She bit her lip and her eyes widened as she realized that he probably hadn't been wearing anything under those loose pants he'd shown up wearing.  


"Oh, for pity's sake," she suddenly muttered to herself. "My life has turned completely upside down, I have a jerk in my bathtub, and I'm standing here thinking about his underwear."  


While the thought of Jareth sans underwear was disquieting on a level that she didn't even want to contemplate, Sarah decided to just let that issue go for the moment.  


She grabbed an extra pair of socks and carried the sweat suit back into the living room. As she was walking toward the door, the painting caught her attention once more. She crossed the room to stand before it.  


She fixed a baleful glare at Jareth's portrait. "You know, considering your less-than-pleasant personality, it's entirely possible that the Labyrinth was just tired of your ass and got rid of you. And there is no way in hell that I'm telling you about that dream."

  
She gave a humorless laugh and then said in an exaggerated, sultry voice, "The Labyrinth offered me what I desire most in exchange for agreeing to go back to the Underground. Guess what, cutie? Three minutes later, _you're_ on my sofa. You want to go home, Jareth? Just fulfill my sordid little fantasies and the Labyrinth will take you right back."   


Sarah choked slightly. "I cannot ever tell him that. It's too mortifying. Besides, it's not just _him_ that goes back. I go back, too."   


Her eyes narrowed. "And I'm talking to a painting. You've only been here a few hours and you're already driving me crazy."  


--------------------------------   


Jareth's hand had been on the doorknob before he decided that he should calm down before speaking to that infuriating girl. It would not help him learn about her if they continually disagreed. But she would have to be taught to never again speak to him in that manner. When he had finished bathing, he would instruct her in the proper way to address a king.  


After examining the woefully limited bathing area, Jareth decided to try showering instead of a bath. He would be unable to become comfortable in this miniscule tub in any case. He adjusted the water temperature and undressed quickly. Pulling the shower curtain into the tub, he lifted a small lever and hot water began to stream over him.  


The penetrating cold that had settled into his bones since he'd arrived in this place abated slightly. Curious, he twisted the ring on the showerhead and the gentle spray became a pounding pulse of water. He quickly stepped back and then experimentally turned around. He sighed as hot water massaged his back and shoulders. Humans were a backward race when it came to magic, he decided, but they did have some wonderful inventions.  


Picking up the soap, he sniffed at it inquisitively. It had an agreeably fresh scent and he lathered the washcloth. After taking a leisurely shower, he adjusted the water back to a spray and washed his hair.  


When the water began to cool, he shut off the taps and stepped from the tub. Using the towels Sarah had laid out for him, he dried his hair as best he could and then looked at the rumpled apparel he had been wearing. He was accustomed to changing into fresh clothing whenever the mood struck him. The thought of redressing in these garments was repugnant.  


Listening carefully, he could hear movement outside the door and heard the faint clink of metal against metal. He shivered slightly as the cold began to seep over him again. Deciding that Sarah had returned with clothing for him, he considered how best to obtain it. After her outburst, he refused to have her actually enter this room until he had left it.  


--------------------------------   


Sarah finished scrubbing the skillet with a scouring pad and rinsed it off before placing it on the drain rack. She wondered how long Jareth would stay in the bathroom. She still needed to shower so that she could go to Steve's apartment and take the boxes to the homeless shelter.  


Maybe Jareth was waiting for her to bring his clothes. Well, she thought, he could just stay in the bathroom until hell froze over.  


She was drying her hands when a soft sound behind her caught her attention. Turning, she found Jareth standing there in nothing but a towel. His hair was damp and hung down in wispy strands, almost touching the towel wrapped around his waist. Before she could catch herself, her mouth dropped open and then she quickly averted her eyes.  


"You have brought clean clothing?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his bare chest.  


Sarah nodded quickly and went into the living room with Jareth following her. She handed him the sweat suit and socks, gazing at a point over his shoulder as she spoke to him. He'd actually been wearing little more than this when he'd arrived, but there was something disturbingly...intimate...about talking to him while he was wearing only a towel.  


"After you get dressed, we'll try to judge your sizes. I found a men's clothing catalog at Gary's, so that might help us figure them out."  


He took the garments from her without a word and walked back to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.  


"We're obviously going to have to work on the phrases "please" and "thank you," Sarah said loudly.  


She didn't get a reply; not that she truly expected one. His Majesty seemed to believe that manners didn't apply to him. Sighing, she picked up the catalog and began looking through it with interest.  


In a moment, she heard the bathroom door open and Jareth came back into the living room. The suit was extremely baggy and the pants were a bit short, but it would do until she could get something that would fit him.

Sarah mentally reviewed her bank balance and winced. She'd have to buy Jareth's clothes at the Goodwill. Even if she put it on a credit card and paid it out monthly, there was no way that she could afford a new wardrobe for him. She glanced down at the socks on his feet. She'd need to get him a couple of pairs of shoes, too.  


She frowned. If she traced an outline of his foot on a piece of paper could a salesperson tell her what size he wore? She glanced up at his face and was surprised at what she saw.  


"You're shivering," she exclaimed.   


"It is cold in this room," he said, obviously trying to control the slight tremors.   


"It doesn't seem that cold to me," she said, puzzled. "But your hair is wet, that's probably causing it. Come back into the bathroom and I'll show you how to blow it dry."   


Jareth looked briefly perplexed at her words but then shook his head. "It will dry on its own." Another chill swept over him and Sarah frowned.   


"Not before you catch your death of pneumonia," she said. "If you won't go into the bathroom, then just sit down in here."  


She went to the bathroom and brought back her blow dryer and a brush. She was relieved to find that he was sitting in the armchair. She'd been afraid that he'd still be defiantly standing in the middle of the room. She plugged the dryer into an outlet and started to hand him the brush and blow dryer when his trembling seemed to increase. As she watched, he gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles had gone white in an effort to stop shaking.  


She looked into his face, concerned. His teeth were clenched to keep them from chattering. She was about to offer to bring him a blanket when, with a flash of insight, she realized that Jareth was struggling as hard against revealing any weakness as he was fighting against the shivering.  


"I'm going to brush your hair to get the tangles out and then I'm going to use this to dry it," she said, forcing her manner to remain businesslike. "It will make a lot of noise, but it won't hurt."  


He nodded once and she stood behind him, gently brushing his hair free of snarls, murmuring apologies under her breath whenever the brush caught on a tangle. She understood that the fact that he was even allowing her to do this was a clear indication of just how intensely he wanted relief from the cold.

When his fine hair was smooth, she flipped the blow dryer on, setting it to low. Running the brush through his hair, she dried each section, careful not to focus the hot air too near his skin. When the majority of his hair was dry, she laid the brush aside and slipped her free hand into his hair, close to his scalp.   


Jareth started and she said quickly, "I'm sorry, but I don't want to burn you with this. I have to feel what I'm doing."   


He said nothing, but relaxed slightly and she began drying the hair closest to his skin, using her hand to judge the amount of heat that he was feeling. When the remainder of his hair was dry, the chills seemed to pass.

She ran her fingers through the silky strands and Sarah gave a bemused smile as his hair fluffed into the wild style she was accustomed to seeing him wear. She'd been convinced that it was something he affected but apparently it was his natural appearance.

Abruptly, Jareth pulled away from her and stood, crossing the room to the window. He looked out onto the street below and spoke over his shoulder.

"I am much warmer now." His tone was arrogant.

Sarah turned off the blow drier and gave a mental shrug. Obviously the fae didn't tolerate the cold very well. But there didn't seem to be any permanent damage done and he certainly seemed to fall right back into his usual insolent demeanor. He still hadn't bothered to say thank you and Sarah considered pointing out his lack of gratitude but something about the set of his shoulders told her to just let it go for the moment. She was starting to get a headache and arguing with him wasn't something she wanted to do right now, anyway.

"All right," she said briskly. "Then I'm going to take a shower. I won't be long."

Sarah unplugged the blow dryer and grabbed the brush. She took a change of clothes from her bedroom and went back into the bathroom, turning on the shower to let it warm up while she undressed. When she stuck her hand under the water, she yanked it back with a surprised hiss.

It was like ice.

She turned the cold water tap completely off, waited a few seconds, and tentatively ran a finger through the water still coming from the faucet. Still cold. Dammit, she thought, of all the inconsiderate things to do. That royal pain-in-the-ass had used up all the hot water. Fuming, Sarah jerked on the clothing she had just removed and flung the bathroom door open, intending to give him a piece of her mind.

As she stalked into the living room, she saw that Jareth was still standing at the window looking out at the city the surrounded them. From this vantage point, she could clearly see his face.

He looked utterly lost.

It suddenly struck her how the tables had turned. Jareth was now the one trapped in an unfamiliar world. He had no power, no knowledge of where the pitfalls and dangers lay and no real idea of what he was expected to do. She vividly remembered what that was like and he didn't even have the perverse comfort of a 13-hour time limit.

He must be terrified, she thought and the cutting words she'd intended to say died in her throat.

In the next instant Jareth realized that she had entered the room and his cold mask fell into place.

"When you claim that you will not be long, you truly mean your words," he drawled.

Sarah bit her lip and stifled the automatic response that sprang to her lips.

"I've decided to shower later," she said instead. "After I run errands."

He shrugged slightly and glanced back out the window.

"Is it like this everywhere?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Choked with buildings," he said. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand toward the window.

"This is New York," she said with a wry smile. "Choked with buildings is a pretty apt description."

"Are there are no wild areas left in this world?" His tone was remote. "No forests? No meadows?"

"Sure, there are," Sarah answered. "Just not right here."

He glanced back out the window, his expression unreadable.

As the silence stretched out between them, Sarah shook her head. Pulling open a drawer in a nearby desk, she rummaged around until she found her faded cloth measuring tape, a pen and a piece of notebook paper.

"I found a section in the catalog that gives directions on converting measurements to sizes," Sarah told Jareth. "All I'll have to do is take your measurements and then look on the chart." She deliberately ignored the catalog's statement that measurements should be taken while undressed or over undergarments.

She tilted her head and crooked her finger at him.

Jareth frowned and glared at her, but he finally crossed the room to stand before her.

She opened the catalog and looked at the instructions. "Okay, first, we need your collar measurement." She held up the measuring tape.

Jareth looked at her suspiciously.

At his expression, she burst out laughing.

"As great as the temptation is, I'm not going to strangle you." Sarah grinned as she wrapped the cloth around his neck.

She made a note of the measurement and looked back at the catalog. "Okay, now sleeve length."

"Are you going to be all day doing this?" Jareth complained, holding his arm up.

"If I need to take all day, then that's exactly how long I'll take. It's not like you're on a schedule." Her eyes narrowed and she scowled at him. "I'm doing this for you, so just hold still."

She slowly took the rest of the measurements, carefully listing each one on the paper and taking particular delight in irritating him by rechecking her figures. When she had accumulated the necessary dimensions, she used the chart to determine his shirt size.

"Okay," she said, turning the page. "Now for the pants."

She scanned through the directions and her eyes widened. She glanced at Jareth and said quickly, "Um, I've already taken your waist measurement. We're through."

He crossed his arms and smirked at her. "I wondered how long it would take you to get to the section regarding the inseam."

"You knew?" she asked, surprised.

"My clothing is tailored." Jareth arched an eyebrow. "Of course I knew."

"Well, then, what is the measurement?" she demanded.

"I have no idea," he drawled. "My tailor keeps up with such things. At any rate, I sincerely doubt that he uses the same sort of increments."

"We could just guess," Sarah said hopefully.

"Oh, no, you are the one who insisted upon this procedure," Jareth said, his expression plainly telling her that he expected her to back down.

She shot him a poisoned look and her lips thinned into a tight line.

"Fine," she snapped. "You need to stand up straight."

Sarah dropped into a crouch and took the end of the tape in her hand. She lifted the end of the measuring tape, preparing to place it high against the inside of his leg but then drew back before she moved her hand toward him. She didn't have to look up to know that he was wearing a triumphant smile.

She gritted her teeth and lifted the end of the tape again. Reaching out toward him, she jumped when his hand closed firmly over hers.

"I will take this end of the measuring device," Jareth said flatly. "You may take the other."

Sarah grinned at her small victory.

She took the inseam measurement and jotted it down on the notebook paper.

"One more thing" she said, turning the paper over and placing it on the floor. "Put your foot on this."

"Why?" Jareth demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

"I want to trace around your foot," Sarah explained.

"That is ludicrous," he snapped.

"Do you want shoes or not?" she snapped back.

Sighing, he stepped on the paper and rolled his eyes as she outlined the shape of his foot.

When Sarah finished, she rose and folded the paper, placing it in the back pocket of her jeans. She took her coat out of the tiny closet and began pulling it on.

"Okay, just stay in the apartment and I'll be back as soon as I can," she said as she opened the door.

Jareth waited until she had engaged the door locks from the outside. He moved to stand beside the door, listening closely. When the sound of Sarah's footsteps had faded away completely, he turned and regarded her apartment and its contents thoughtfully.

Now he would see what he could learn about the girl.

--------------------------------   



	4. Could be Raining

The Enticement

by Scattered Logic

Author's Notes: As always, special thanks to my beta, Cormak for her assistance, suggestions and support. Her art studio plays a cameo role in this chapter. And special thanks to Cormak and The Hooded Crow for patiently answering questions regarding art supplies. Any errors regarding that subject are mine alone.

Additional Author's Note: In "The Enticement," my depiction of Jareth could be construed by some readers as controversial. Therefore, one paragraph has been deleted from this chapter before it was posted to FanFiction.Net. The unabridged chapter is posted on my website for those who wish to read the author's intended version.  


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


--------------------------------   


Jareth quickly walked to one of the two rooms in Sarah's home that he hadn't already seen--her bedchamber.   


As with the rest of the abode, it was sparsely furnished. There was only a small bed, a night table, chest of drawers and a chair. The bed appeared to have been hastily spread up, the pale green coverlet thrown haphazardly over the pillows. The robe that she had been wearing earlier was draped over the chair and one of her slippers was turned upside down next to its mate on the floor.

A sliding door across the room led into a closet that contained Sarah's clothing. Her taste in garments ran to the blue denim pants and simple shirts similar to the ones she had been wearing earlier. A suitcase sat on the floor beneath her clothes but it was empty.  


A shelf at the top of the closet held three promising boxes. As he lifted the top from the first of them, he felt a slight twinge of remorse at invading her privacy this way. He knew that, should the situation be reversed, he would be livid at someone inspecting his personal items. However, he quickly pushed that thought away. It was imperative that he learn about Sarah so that he could return home as soon as possible.   


This box contained various legal and financial papers. The figures listed on bank statements and savings accounts meant nothing to him, he paid little attention to these and returned this box to the shelf. The second box was full of loose photographs. Sifting through them, he saw that they were older pictures of what he assumed were family and friends. In all of these photographs, Sarah was a small child. He didn't have time to look through them now and he preferred to concentrate on learning about her life since her return from the Labyrinth. Once again, he closed the lid and placed the box back on the shelf.   


The third box was much more promising. It contained two photographic albums with recent entries. He opened the first and found several pictures of Sarah with a stocky brown-haired man.   


They were obviously comfortable with one another. In one pose, Sarah was sitting in a chair, the man perched on the overstuffed arm leaning companionably against her. This man had a mischievous smile and had playfully forked his fingers up behind Sarah's head, giving her the appearance of horns. In another pose, they had their arms looped around each other's shoulders. Both wore wide smiles and were waving at the photographer. However, none of the pictures that Jareth examined demonstrated any type of passion, only friendship.   


Jareth was somewhat puzzled. While her temperament left much to be desired, Sarah was a beautiful woman. These two were plainly affectionate, so why was there no spark between them?   


The mystery was solved with the next series of photographs. These pictures depicted Sarah's friend with a tall black-haired man. Their intertwined arms and their expressions as they gazed at one another bespoke an obvious attraction.   


The second photographic album contained pictures of Sarah with a man, woman and small boy. He gave a faint smile as he recognized that the boy was her brother, Toby. The man and woman would be her father and stepmother. Jareth examined a photograph of Sarah with Toby on her shoulders. Both were grinning as Sarah held onto the boy's legs, while he was covering her eyes with his hands.  


Jareth gave an amused smirk at another obviously candid photograph. Sarah was seated, glaring at the camera, one held hand out as if to push the photographer away. Sarah's stepmother stood behind her, apparently wrapping sections of Sarah's hair around small cylindrical objects and then piling them on top of Sarah's head. Sarah's face was covered in what seemed to be green goo, leaving only her eyes and mouth uncovered. A long blue dress that Jareth assumed was this world's version of a ball gown could be seen hanging on a doorframe behind the women.  


Jareth quickly looked through the rest of the album. Every photograph indicated that Sarah had a good relationship with the members of her family. At the very back of this album, however, were two loose photographs. Both depicted Sarah with a slender blond man. In the first, the man had a smug expression, his arm wrapped tightly around Sarah's waist. In the second, the same man stood next to Sarah. He was turned away from her slightly, apparently speaking to someone not shown in the photograph. The blond man's hand was placed casually on Sarah's neck, fingers curled around the back of her neck, thumb resting at the hollow of her throat.   


These photographs interested Jareth very much. The blond man's stance and attitude were disdainfully possessive. It was obvious that he believed Sarah belonged to him and each photograph openly displayed that belief. In both scenes, however, Sarah gazed out at the viewer with a haunted look. Her face was pale and she had dark shadows under her eyes.  


Jareth replaced the photographs, returned the albums to the box and put it back on the closet shelf.   


Moving to the drawer in the nightstand, he opened it. Inside, he found only an address book, a notepad and pencil, and a small tube of ointment that was labeled as "lip balm."   


He began opening drawers in the chest, but found nothing more than blankets in one drawer, and clothing and undergarments in the rest. A small mirrored tray on top of the chest held a few decorative candles and a single bottle of perfume.   


Back at the doorway, Jareth scanned the room again. Two things perplexed him. The first was why there were no very recent photographs of Sarah's family. While the pictures in the album were by no means old, there was nothing to indicate that she'd had any contact with them in the past few years. The second was the identity of the blond man. There was no sign that Sarah had a lover. While Jareth had certainly not examined them closely, her undergarments had appeared to be of the plain, serviceable variety--nothing like the type of trifle worn to entice. Nor were there any oils or sexual toys that one would associate with a lover's presence in her life.   


Jareth suddenly smirked. The man had probably been driven away by the girl's odious disposition.

--------------------------------   


Since Steve had only lived three blocks away, Sarah walked to his apartment. She turned the collar of her coat up and shivered. It wasn't supposed to get colder as the day wore on. There was something fundamentally wrong with that, she thought. It should get warmer when the sun came up, not colder.   


Fundamentally wrong, she mused. What was fundamentally _wrong_ was how her life had spun so completely out of control in just a few hours. Suddenly, Sarah began laughing softly. She'd always wanted to be special, she thought wryly. She was willing to bet all she owned that, in a city of millions of people, she was the only one with a fae king as a houseguest.  


She pulled the keys from her pocket as she ran lightly up the steps and then let herself into Steve's building. She found his apartment and unlocked the door. The boxes that Gary wanted her to get were sitting in the floor of the empty living room.   


Although Sarah had only met Steve a few times, she'd always liked the man. He'd had a quietly generous manner and a self-depreciating humor that had contrasted sharply with some of his more outgoing friends. While he had been dark instead of fair, Steve's almost fragile beauty had sometimes reminded her of... _Jareth_, her mind whispered.   


Sarah bit her lip and looked thoughtfully at the boxes. Hadn't Steve been about Jareth's height and build?   


__

"...he said to give his clothes to somebody who needed them."   


It wouldn't hurt to look, she thought. Sarah opened the first box and found three folded suits along with six corresponding shirts. Sarah pulled out a dark navy jacket and looked for a label or tag to indicate the size. What she saw distracted her completely.   


She gasped in surprise and double-checked the label.   


"My god, this is _Armani_," she murmured as she lightly ran her fingers over the beautiful fabric.   


Sarah quickly looked at the size and then lifted out a pair of pants. Her eyebrows shot up and she set the slacks aside. Holding her breath, she checked the label on one of the shirts.   


"Oh, thank you," she sighed. It was a financial miracle; they were all Jareth's size.   


Sarah carefully refolded the clothing and turned her attention to the remaining box. Inside, she found a long black all-weather trench coat and another complete suit. Hugo Boss this time, she noted. She'd never seen Steve wear anything like this, but she remembered that Gary had said the clothing in the boxes had been a gift.   


"You definitely had at least one very wealthy friend," Sarah said aloud. "Steve, where ever you are, I hope you understand what I'm about to do."   


--------------------------------   


Jareth opened the door to the room Sarah used as her workroom. The smell of paint and turpentine was much stronger here and he grimaced slightly. Looking around, he noted that she kept her supplies in neat order. One rack contained brushes of various sizes and shapes, another held tubes of paint, while still another held colored pencils.   


An empty easel was in the middle of the room. A bookcase containing sketchpads and reference books stood along one wall. On top of the bookcase was a smaller version of the radio she kept in the living room. Across from the bookcase stood a long table with metal legs. A large roll of canvas was on the floor under the table. On the wall above was a long corkboard overflowing with the various sketches and pictures pinned to it. Some of these appeared to be Sarah's work and others were obviously reproductions of paintings and sketches done by other artists.   


He saw a glass palette with a piece of white paper attached to the bottom lying on the table. She had used the palette recently, he noticed. There was a large sketchpad lying next to it and he flipped through the pad quickly. Various rough sketches of Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo and the Fireys filled many of the pages. The stairway room he had created from a picture he had seen on her bedroom wall took up one page. His throne room filled another.   


Had she never sketched _him_? Jareth wondered. He felt insulted that he had made such a negligible impression on the girl that she had never drawn his likeness, nor had she even remembered his name.  


He found the portfolio that he had looked at earlier and glanced through it again, but saw nothing useful.   


Nothing in this room revealed anything more about Sarah than that she was an artist and was reasonably organized, he thought.   


He idly glanced over the illustrations on the corkboard and began to turn away when one drawing caught his eye. There in the corner of the board was a small card depicting a painting of a barn owl, its wings outstretched as it landed on a bare tree branch. He looked closer and saw that the artist was listed as John Cooksley. He lifted an eyebrow. Was the owl merely a coincidence? Or could it be that he had not been forgotten, after all?   


--------------------------------   


Sarah left the boxes at Steve's and took a cab to a local department store. In the clothing section, she chose several pairs of men's socks and then took a deep breath and approached the next aisle.   


Stretched out before her were neat packages of men's underwear in a dizzying selection of colors, sizes and styles. She located the section with Jareth's size and then frowned.   


The eternal question--boxers or briefs? Sarah thought. After puzzling over the matter for a few moments, she finally picked up a package of each. She would keep the receipt and return what he didn't want.   


She took the paper with the tracing of Jareth's foot to the shoe salesman. After blinking in surprise at her request, he used it to take measurements and then translated it into a shoe size. After warning that he couldn't guarantee a perfect fit from a piece of paper, he helped Sarah select two pairs of black sneakers.   


As she was leaving the shoe department, she saw a display of men's leather gloves and paused. She and Jareth were going to have to start getting along and she had already saved so much money by not having to purchase his clothing. Maybe she should make a little extra effort.   


"Excuse me," Sarah said, calling to the salesman. She held up the boxes of shoes. "If you wore this size shoe, what size glove would you wear?"   


The salesman shook his head, clearly exasperated. "Lady, it doesn't work that way. The size of a man's feet has nothing to do with anything else. That's just an old wives tale."   


Sarah snapped, "I'm talking about his _hands_, not any other portion of his anatomy. I don't need to guess the size of _that_."  


The salesman smirked.   


Sarah flushed. "That didn't come out right," she muttered.   


Laughing out loud, the salesman took pity on her. He looked through the gloves and then held out a pair.   


"Try these," he said. "But it's just a guess."   


Sarah brushed her fingers over the supple leather and examined the soft lining. She winced slightly at the price, but nodded. "Fine. I'll take these."   


The salesman nodded and then another thought occurred to Sarah. If she was going to make the effort, why not go all out?   
  
"Do you do gift wrapping?" she asked.  


--------------------------------   


After leaving the workroom, Jareth turned his attention to the bathroom. He opened a drawer in the cabinet by the sink and found a small supply of cosmetics. He remembered the solitary perfume he had found in Sarah's bedroom. The fae women he knew kept several varieties of perfumes, and those who chose not to use a glamour always seemed to have an endless supply of concoctions intended to artfully enhance their appearance. Did Sarah have no knowledge of how to attract the attention of a male? Or did she simply refuse to try?   


He could find nothing of interest in the living room and the kitchen revealed nothing except food and cooking utensils. Jareth had drawn his hand back with a hiss of pain when he had accidentally encountered an iron skillet as he'd reached into a cabinet. Even that brief touch had burned his fingers and left them reddened and sore.   


The unease he had been feeling since he'd found that he was stranded in this world returned full force. Iron was deadly to his kind and he was trapped in a city where he was surrounded by it. While he had been trying to ignore it, there was a very real possibility that the chills that he had been experiencing were symptoms of iron poisoning. With no magic to keep it at bay… Jareth shook his head. There was no point in dwelling on that now but it was imperative that he learn more about Sarah and quickly.   


He had found no diaries or journals, nothing that would give him clear insight into her life or her mind. It was obvious that Sarah did not want to return to the Underground. If she could obstruct that return, he knew she would do so.   


It was increasingly apparent that he was going to be forced to engage the girl in conversation, although she seemed to be as wary of him as he was of her. Ah, well, he thought, he would make an effort at being charming.   


Jareth resolved to observe Sarah more carefully. Perhaps the girl had a weakness he could use to his advantage.   


--------------------------------   


After Sarah retrieved the boxes from Steve's, she dropped the keys through the slot in the apartment manager's door and trudged home with the boxes of clothing and her purchases. When she opened her door, she found Jareth sitting in the living room looking through the men's wear catalog she'd borrowed from Gary.   


"I'm back," Sarah said, "and I've brought you something to wear."   
  
Jareth rose and, to her complete surprise, took the boxes from her.   


"Thanks," she said uncertainly.  


"You are welcome," he said. "Where do you want these placed?"   


"Um, the sofa is fine," Sarah said. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she frowned as she watched Jareth put the boxes on the sofa. Why was he being nice?   


He turned and lifted an eyebrow at her expression. Chagrined, Sarah knew that she'd been caught.

"I have given the matter careful consideration and I have decided that you are correct. It would be beneficial if we were pleasant to one another," he said quietly.  


Sarah's mouth dropped open in surprise and she nodded.   


A little flustered, Sarah began removing the clothing from the boxes and stacking it neatly on the sofa.   


"I got you two pairs of sneakers. I know they aren't the right shoes for these suits, but shoes are so expensive and without you trying them on..." she said, gesturing toward the shoeboxes.   


"They will be fine," Jareth said.

  
"And I wasn't certain if... I wasn't sure what kind..." Sarah stammered for a moment and then gave up. "Here," she said and thrust the sack containing the socks and underwear at Jareth.   


He took the sack from her and looked inside, expressionless.  


"I'll heat up some soup for lunch," Sarah said. "If you want to try on the suits, feel free to change in the bedroom. It's right through there." She pointed toward the door.

Jareth nodded, picked up the first stack of clothing and went into her bedroom and closed the door. 

Sarah began to reheat the leftover vegetable soup. She set the table, made tea, ladled soup into the bowls and was just beginning to wonder if Jareth was having problems with the clothing when he cleared his throat behind her.   


Sarah turned and her mouth went dry.   


Jareth stood there wearing a black Armani suit with a white shirt. The only indication that the suit hadn't been tailored for him was that the jacket was perhaps a quarter of an inch too long in the sleeves.

  
"You..." Sarah began and then blushed slightly. "Uh, I mean, the suit looks great."   


"Yes, the garments are quite well made," he said.   


Sarah smiled wryly. "The company that makes the suit is known for that." She glanced down at the sneakers he was wearing. "Are the shoes okay?"   


"They are very comfortable," Jareth said.

Sarah suddenly snapped her fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot. Wait just a minute."   


She went into the living room and returned with a long, flat package wrapped in blue paper with a silver ribbon and bow. She held the package out to Jareth.   


"What is this?" he asked as he took the package. His expression was one of surprise.   


"It's a peace offering," Sarah said, smiling faintly.   


He tilted his head and gave her a puzzled look.   


"Well, go ahead and open it," Sarah said.   


Jareth tore off the wrapping paper and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he lifted the gloves from the tissue paper lining the box.   


"You always wore them before," Sarah said in explanation. "I didn't know if you still did or not."   


"Yes," Jareth said softly. "I still wear them."   


He pulled the gloves onto his hands.   


"Oh," Sarah gave a slight sound of dismay as he tugged and smoothed them over his fingers. "Are they too tight?"   


"Not so much as to be uncomfortable," Jareth assured her. He hesitated for a moment. "Thank you."   


"You're welcome," she said with a pleased smile. Maybe his earlier rude behavior had only been because of the shock of the situation.

She gestured toward the table. "If you're hungry, lunch is ready."   


Jareth nodded and they sat down to dine.   


--------------------------------   
  
An awkward silence stretched between them. After mentally reviewing the list of questions that he wanted to ask Sarah, Jareth reminded himself that he must remain polite. Alienating her would not serve his purpose.

"This soup is very good," he said with a slight smile. "Did you prepare it yourself?"

"No, Gary made this. It was his turn to cook," Sarah said, smiling in return. "We switch so that neither of us gets stuck cooking all the time."

"You are good friends?" Jareth asked.

"Yes," Sarah replied quietly. "We're very good friends. I met Gary the first week I moved into the building and we hit it off right away."

Jareth intended to ask how long she had lived in this place when he was swept with a wave of dizziness and the cold suddenly intensified. He carefully put his spoon down and gripped the edges of the table. He vaguely heard Sarah ask if something was wrong but he ignored her, focusing on trying to stop the room from spinning in sickening loops.

After several long moments, the room finally stopped whirling. Sarah had moved from her seat and had dropped to one knee beside him, looking up at him anxiously.

"What is it?" she demanded.

There was a surprising amount of concern in her eyes, he thought. He glanced away from her and gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at her. There could be no doubt of it now; he was suffering the effects of iron poisoning.

"Jareth, what's wrong?" Sarah's voice rose.

He shook his head slightly. What could the girl do? Revealing the truth would be pointless.

"I am merely tired," he said, forcing his voice to remain even. "I have had little sleep."

While her concern didn't disappear completely, it seemed to lessen somewhat.

"Why don't you lie down?" she suggested, rising. "You can take a nap in my room. I've got some work to do anyway."

Jareth started to refuse and the world gave a nauseating lurch before settling down again. If he were lying down, he thought, at least he would be spared the indignity of falling down.

"That might be best," he said quietly.

He concentrated on standing smoothly and went into her bedroom. Once inside, Jareth firmly closed the door and walked shakily over to the bed. He lay down on top of the coverlet and closed his eyes.

He reached out with his mind, seeking the link to the Underground and nearly howled in frustration as it continued to remain blocked. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. He needed to conserve his strength if he was to fight the poison.

Although, Jareth thought darkly, if the Labyrinth continued to obstruct his magic, it would make little difference.

He would die in this place.

--------------------------------   


Sarah cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Jareth was obviously not feeling well, but he was trying very hard to conceal that from her. Though, perhaps he was telling the truth. Maybe he really was just tired. The extra rest would probably make him feel much better.

She went into her studio, intending to work on a sketch of Sir Didymus and Ambrocious but couldn't seem to work up enough enthusiasm to finish it. She finally put it away with a sigh. Why finish the sketch? If she were going to be forced to return to the Underground, she certainly didn't need to worry about her career any longer. The only career she would have there would be ruling over the goblins, she thought ruefully.

The Goblin Queen. Sarah turned the phrase over in her mind. 'Jareth, the Goblin King' had a certain flair. 'Sarah, the Goblin Queen,' however, just didn't have the same... oomph. Sarah rolled her eyes. She definitely needed a distraction. 

She went back into the living room and turned the television on, keeping the volume low. Flipping through the channels, she found a rerun of Young Frankenstein already in progress. She smiled as the recognized the classic scene in the graveyard.

She smiled as Marty Feldman's character said, "Could be worse," and mouthed his next line along with him.

"Could be raining."

Sarah settled in to watch the rest of the movie.

--------------------------------   


As the movie credits began to roll across the screen, Sarah stretched and glanced at the clock. She frowned when she realized that Jareth had been asleep for over two hours. If he was truly tired, she didn't want to wake him, but what if something was wrong?

Uneasily, she went to the bedroom door and knocked softly. When she received no reply, she decided to just peek into the room. If he was asleep, she would turn around and he would be none the wiser.

"And if he's awake," she muttered to herself, "he'll be pissed." Her hand hovered on the doorknob indecisively and then she shrugged slightly. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd made him angry.

Opening the door quietly, she peered into the room. Jareth was lying on his back, his eyes closed tightly. Sarah started to close the door again when she realized that he was shaking slightly.

"Jareth?" she asked softly. "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer and she hesitantly entered the room.

"Jareth?" she repeated. As she walked closer to him, she gasped.

His normally pale complexion was chalk white. A fine film of sweat shone on his forehead and strands of his hair clung to his face. As she watched, a spasm of trembling went through him and he shook violently.

"Get out," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"No," she said as worry shot through her. "You're sick. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he said. The spasm passed and he relaxed, but his breathing was uneven.

"Don't lie to me," Sarah demanded. "Tell me what's going on."

His cold eyes locked with hers and she fought to keep from taking a step back. He looked absolutely furious.

"Iron," he said flatly. "The buildings here are filled with it and I am surrounded by it. I am being poisoned."

"I don't understand," she said, confused. "You've been in this world before. Why are you being affected by it now?"

"I've never stayed so long. And I've never been here without magic," he bit out. He gave a harsh laugh and he closed his eyes. "You should be pleased. If I die, there will be no need for you to return to the Underground. Your pathetic little life can continue on as if nothing happened at all."

Sarah flinched at the insult. Is that what he truly thought of her?

"You really are a bastard, you know that?" she said coldly.

She flung open the closet and pulled out her suitcase. She tossed it onto the bed beside him and wrenched open her dresser drawers. She began to toss clothes into suitcase.

His eyes had opened when he felt the impact on the bed and he watched as she turned back to the closet.

"What are you doing?" His tone was only mildly curious.

"Packing," she answered. She began to pull jeans from their hangers, fold them and put them into the case. "I'm getting you out of here."

--------------------------------   



	5. A Lateral Move

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic

Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine. 

Author's Notes: As always, special thanks to my beta, Cormak for her assistance, suggestions and support.  


--------------------------------   


"And where do you propose that we go?" Jareth asked. He gave himself a mental shake. His voice was beginning to sound frail, even to his own ears. "You yourself agreed that this city was choked with buildings."

Sarah never stopped packing and didn't look at him as she spoke. "I have a place in the Adirondacks. We're going there."

"The Adirondacks?" he repeated.

"The Adirondack Mountains. You said that you were surrounded by iron here. The cabin's in the middle of nowhere. There's nothing around for miles." Sarah zipped the suitcase closed and finally looked at him. "If you don't feel well enough then just rest, but if you feel up to it, I could use some help. The sooner we get everything done, the sooner we can leave."

The weakness Jareth was feeling was much more pronounced and his hands were shaking visibly but he forced himself to his feet. As much as he hated accepting assistance from the girl, it was preferable to passively lying there and dying. 

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Put the clothes I brought you back in the boxes and sacks. Set everything you pack by the door so that we don't forget anything on our way out. I'm going to go get the car and then pick up some supplies." Her voice was still cold.

Sarah lifted her suitcase and walked out of the room.

Clenching his teeth against the nausea that rose when he moved, Jareth followed her. 

--------------------------------   


By the time Sarah finished packing things from the bathroom, Jareth had completed his own packing and was shivering badly. Sarah turned the heat up higher and took the trench coat out of the box. She held it up, silently waiting. Jareth was shaking so violently that it took him three attempts to get his arms through the coat. Once he had it on, Sarah didn't ask permission, she simply moved around in front of him and buttoned up the coat, tying the belt around his waist. She walked from the room without a word, returning with a long blue muffler that she wrapped it around his neck, tucking the ends inside the coat.

Sarah pulled on her own coat and looked at the suitcase and bags she'd placed by the door. She left those behind, but picked up the boxes and sacks that she had carried in earlier.

"I'm going to get the car and then go to the market," she said. "I'll go ahead and take these with me. It's going to be a pain carrying them now, but it will save us a trip back upstairs later. If you find anything else you think we'll need, just put it in a sack and set it by the door. I'll be back as soon as I can."

After she left, Jareth sat on the sofa, looking at the large metal box he had noticed earlier. Images now flickered from the glass front and the sound of voices came from within it. He winced as a dull throbbing pain began settling into his veins. The effects of the poisoning were becoming more distinct, he thought vaguely.

He focused on the box in front of him, trying to distract himself from the pain. As he was attempting to puzzle out what the people in the box were doing, a loud knocking came from Sarah's door.

He looked at the door warily. Should he answer it? The knocking came again and he pushed himself to his feet. Weaving slightly, he made it to the door and took a moment to steel himself. He took a deep breath, drew himself erect and opened the door.

He found a middle-aged woman standing there. Her graying black hair was cropped short and her eyeglasses were sliding down toward the end of her nose. She was dressed tastefully in brown trousers and a cream colored sweater with a brown leather overcoat. She held a large sack in her arms and when she saw him, her mouth dropped open.

"Oh my god," the woman exclaimed. "It's you. I mean, you're him." 

Jareth arched an eyebrow in question.

"I'm sorry," she said with a wide smile. "It's just that after what Sarah told me, I never thought I'd actually see you. She's obviously been hiding things from me."

"Have we met, madam?" Jareth asked coolly.

"I'm Jean Abbott. I'm Sarah's... Well, I help Sarah out. You know, at my gallery. Is she here?" Jean peered past Jareth into the apartment.

"Sarah is at the market," Jareth said, his eyes narrowing.

Jean's eyes fell on the suitcase and bags by the door. "Taking a trip?" she asked curiously.

"We are going to the mountains." Irritation flooded his voice. What did this woman want?

"For Christmas? Just the two of you? How romantic. I'm glad to see that things are looking up for Sarah." Jean gave a wolfish smile and then glanced at her watch. "Listen, Hon, I've got a cab double-parked downstairs. I just wanted to stop by and drop off Sarah's Christmas present." Jean shoved the sack she was carrying into Jareth's arms. "You can do me a huge favor, though. There's a folder in there with the current offers for the portraits. I've got a buyer that's really interested in the entire series and he's willing to pay a pretty penny. So, tell her to sell. Point out to her that she doesn't need them." The woman looked Jareth up and down appreciatively and gave him a wink. "Flesh and blood is so much warmer than paint and canvas."

Before Jareth could ask her what she was talking about, she looked at her watch again and said, "Oh, I've got to run. Tell Sarah to think about the offer and give me a call."

At that, the woman turned, skipped down the stairs and was gone.

Jareth sagged back against the doorframe and allowed the heavy sack to slide down to the floor. He closed the door and moved back toward the sofa when the pain increased sharply and broke through the rigid barriers he had placed in his mind. As it crashed over him, he staggered and wondered why the room was growing so dark before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

--------------------------------   


Sarah made it to the garage and tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for the car to be brought to her. When the attendant pulled the car around, she met him at the driver's door and snatched the clipboard from his hands. She didn't examine the car, she simply signed the document stating that her car was in good condition and threw the boxes and sacks into the trunk.

As she pulled out onto the street, she decided that she'd go to the local market and get everything she needed there. She could save money by stopping at several different stores but she didn't have the luxury of extra time.

Sarah mentally reviewed what she needed and then compared it against what she knew was already at the cabin. She had no idea how long they would be staying but she would drive into Hague or one of the other small towns nearby and fill in any missing supplies after they got to the mountains.

_If he doesn't die._ The thought surfaced unbidden.

No, she thought, gritting her teeth. Jareth couldn't die. He wasn't going to show up, destroy all of her romantic fantasies, make snide remarks about her bathroom and rude cracks about her "pathetic little life" and then die on her. He wasn't allowed to die. She intended to have the pleasure of telling him exactly what she thought of him and that jerk wasn't going to cheat her out of it by dying.

--------------------------------   


Sarah finished her shopping in record time, pulling two shopping carts along with her. At the checkout line, she slid her credit card over and signed the receipt without even glancing at the total. She loaded the bags into the trunk of her car and drove back to the apartment as quickly as New York traffic would allow.

She parked in the alleyway and rushed upstairs. She put her key in the lock and briefly didn't understand why it turned so easily. Then she realized that it wasn't locked at all. Puzzled, she opened the door and stepped inside. When she saw Jareth lying on the floor, fear stabbed through her like a dagger.

"Jareth!" Sarah cried in alarm. She rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside him. She shook his arm but he didn't respond. "Jareth, please wake up."

With a frantic burst of strength, Sarah rolled him over and for a single, horrified second, she thought he was dead.

He was almost completely white, his face was cool to her touch and she couldn't feel his breath when she held her hand over his slightly parted lips.

"No," she whispered, tears flooding her eyes. "No, this isn't supposed to happen."

Her voice caught in her throat when she saw the faint rise and fall of his chest. He was still alive.

Sarah tried to pick him up, but he easily outweighed her and she could barely move him.

She would have to drag him to the car.

Unless... 

Sarah moistened her lips and said in a shaking voice, "I hope you can hear me. I know we have a deal and that you want me to go back to the Underground. But you've got to take Jareth back now. If you won't take just him, then take us both. He's really sick and he's going to die if you don't help him."

She held her breath and waited. As the moments passed, Sarah realized that nothing was going to happen.

Suddenly enraged, she threw back her head and shrieked, "Damn it, why won't you listen to me?"

She dimly heard the sound of heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs but she ignored them and tried to figure out the best way to get Jareth down to her car.

"Sarah?" A man's voice exclaimed from the doorway. "I just got home and I heard you screaming. What's wrong? Why is your door open?"

Sarah whirled around and almost sobbed with relief at what she saw. "Oh, Gary, thank god, you're back. He's too heavy and I don't think I can move him by myself."

"What's going on?" Gary dropped his suitcase and came into the apartment. He looked at the unconscious man lying on the floor and his eyes widened as he recognized him and then looked at Sarah. Tears stained her face and her eyes were almost wild with panic.  


"Is that..." Gary started, surprised. "That looks like the guy you keep painting. The Goblin King."   


"You've got to help me get him to the car. I'm parked in the alley." Sarah tried to pull Jareth up from the floor.   


"Christ, Sarah, stop that," Gary said sharply. He went down on one knee next to her. He pressed his fingers against the man's throat and felt the pulse fluttering there. "Have you called an ambulance? Do you know what's wrong with him? Did this guy take something?"   


"An ambulance isn't going to do him any good. I've got to get him away from all this iron. It's killing him here."   


"What?" Gary was confused.  


"The iron. He's surrounded by it."   


"Iron?"   


"He's _fae_," Sarah cried. "Don't you understand? I've got to get him out of the city." 

Gary looked at her for a long moment with a worried frown. "Sarah, I know you believe that story, but..."

She grabbed Gary by the shirtfront and looked directly into his eyes. "You know me. You know I'm not insane."  
  
Gary sighed. "You're asking me to believe that this guy is from some other _world_, Sarah. That's a lot to ask."

"No. For friends, it isn't at lot to ask at all." Her voice was harsh and then her tone and her expression softened suddenly. "I know this sounds crazy. I know _I_ sound crazy. But he is fae. And he's dying here. _Look_ at him," she insisted. "Take a good look at him."

Gary looked down at the man lying on the floor and took in the eyebrows arching up in wings and the odd discoloration around the man's eyes. With a fingertip, Gary brushed at the darker coloring there. It wasn't makeup, as he'd first thought, yet it wasn't a tattoo, either.

"Well?" Sarah demanded. "Will you help me?"

Gary regarded his friend. Sensible Sarah, he thought, who'd been through hell and back in the past few years. The woman who took care of him each time he lost yet another friend, who accepted him for what he was without condition, and always kept her feet planted firmly on the ground. The woman whose only flights of fancy involved a world called the Underground. A place full of magic that she adamantly insisted was real.

A place that, if he told the truth, he'd always wanted to believe in.

Gary glanced back down at the man. Gary's common sense was screaming at him to just call an ambulance and let the paramedics handle the situation. And yet every instinct he had told him that there _was_ something otherworldly about the unconscious man.

For a fleeting moment, Gary felt a presence surge through his mind. His vision grayed and a shimmering image of an enormous maze replaced Sarah's living room. Gary blinked and the image blurred into that of the Goblin King casually lounging on a throne, lazily twirling several crystal balls in one hand as misshapen creatures scrabbled at his feet.

Gary blinked again and Sarah's living room was back in place. Stunned, his mouth dropped open and he raised startled eyes to Sarah.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Shaking his head, Gary briefly wondered if he wasn't making the worst mistake of his life. He began pulling the unconscious man up into a fireman's carry.

"Where are you going to take him?" Gary grunted from the strain, lifted Jareth and started toward the open door.  


"To the cabin. I'm hoping that it's far enough away." Sarah raced into the bedroom and grabbed her pillow and coverlet from the bed. She then picked up the suitcase and bags that were stacked by the door and slammed the door shut behind her.  


In her living room, the television played on without an audience and the weatherman gave the forecast in a grim voice.

"We've just received a bulletin from the National Weather Service. Arctic low-pressure that had been slowly moving over the New England states has begun push forward at an incredibly fast pace. In addition, the tropical jet stream that draws warm moist air in from the Caribbean has made a sudden and unexpected shift toward the northeast. We can expect rapidly dropping temperatures and heavy snowfall within the next three to six hours."

The man faced the camera with a grave expression. "When these two systems merge, it could produce the most severe storm since the blizzard of 1978. For those of you living to our north, unless this weather pattern changes very soon, the worst of it will be probably be settling directly over the Adirondack Mountains."

--------------------------------   


Gary settled Jareth into the back seat and Sarah placed the pillow under Jareth's head and tucked the coverlet over him. She closed the car door and turned to her friend. Sarah threw her arms around Gary and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear. "I'll never forget what you did for me."

Gary hugged her back and then held her out at arm's length. He'd never been more confused in his life. "Sarah, what the hell is going on?"

She shook her head and broke away from him. As she moved to the driver's door, she said, "I don't have time to explain. Lock up the apartment for me, okay? I'll call you when I can."

Sarah got into the car, started the engine and rolled down the window. She looked over at Gary with a sad expression.

"If I don't see you again, I love you," Sarah called out of the window.

"What do you mean, if you don't see me again?" Gary cried. "What's that supposed to _mean_?"

She put the car in drive and it began to roll forward. 

"Sarah!" Gary called out.

She never looked back and the car pulled out into traffic and was gone.

--------------------------------   


Sarah wriggled out of her coat and turned the heat up until it was stifling inside the car. As soon as she made it to I-87, she began pushing the speed limit, sending up a silent prayer that the state troopers were busy elsewhere.

She forced herself to drive and tried not to glance back at Jareth. Either he would survive the trip or he wouldn't. There was nothing she could do about it now. Other than the stifling heat, the only concession that she made to his presence in the car was her refusal to turn on the radio. If he was able to rest, she didn't want the noise to disturb him.

Sarah held firm to her resolve until she made it to Albany. She exited to get gasoline and turned around in the seat to look at Jareth. Was it her imagination or was his breathing less labored? She wasn't certain and wasted no more time. She quickly filled the tank and pulled back onto 87 and kept driving.

It began snowing just south of Saratoga Springs and she had to reduce her speed. By the time she made it to Glens Falls, her visibility was down to only a few car lengths in front of her.

Sarah's hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly that her fingers locked around the wheel and she had to flex them cautiously to relax the joints. Her neck and shoulders were aching from hours of sitting hunched over. The heat inside the car combined with the sheer tension of the situation had caused her to perspire and sweat trickled down between her breasts and matted her hair to her neck.

When Sarah took the exit for Highway 28, there was a horrifying moment when she felt the rear of the car fishtail before she got it back under control. She reduced her speed to a crawl and kept moving.

Finally, Sarah took the ramp from Highway 28 and found the small road that led up to the cabin. The snow was becoming heavier by the minute and she was so focused on simply trying to _see_ the road ahead of her that the low groan and slight rustling sound from the backseat almost caused her to jump out of her skin.

She tried to call his name but her throat was so dry that the only thing that emerged was a croaking sound. Clearing her throat, she tried again.

"Jareth?"

There was no reply but, daring to take her eyes from the road for a moment, Sarah glanced into the backseat and was relieved to see that he had shifted position and had pushed the coverlet back. She turned the heat down a bit and concentrated on surviving the last few miles of the trip.

When she finally pulled up in front of the cabin, the wind was blowing so hard that the gusts rocked the car. Sarah glanced at her watch and blinked. It was after 2:00 a.m. A trip that would have taken her five hours on a clear day had taken over nine hours.

Sarah wanted nothing more than to go inside the cabin and sleep, but she knew that wasn't an option. The car had to be unloaded, but more importantly she had to figure out a way to get Jareth inside.

He had to wake up, she thought, and he had to be able to walk. There was simply no other option.

She closed her eyes briefly and said, "Just give me a break here, okay? Just one fucking break."

She twisted around to look at Jareth and as she moved her legs, she almost cried out because they were so stiff. Finally, with a stifled whimper, she pulled herself up onto her knees and faced the backseat.

"Jareth," she said softly. "Can you hear me?"

He muttered something unintelligible and she sagged against the seat briefly at this show of improvement.

"Jareth," she repeated, louder. When he turned his head away from her, she leaned over and patted him softly on the shoulder. "Jareth, you've got to wake up. C'mon, I can't carry you."

His head turned toward her suddenly and confused mismatched eyes met hers. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

He began to push himself up, groaned, and laid his head back. He grimaced and tried again. He slowly maneuvered up into a sitting position.

"I am..." he started, but his voice came out into a whisper. He swallowed hard. "I am well," he said.

Sarah snorted. "Liar."

His eyes narrowed and she couldn't help but smile.

"But if you're feeling well enough to be ticked off at me, then you really are feeling better," she said.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking out the windows.

"We're at the cabin. In the mountains," she said. "I'm going to go inside and turn on the heat and start a fire. Then I'll unload the car. You wait here where it's warm until I'm finished. But then you're going to have to walk inside. I can't carry you. Do you think you can manage it?"

He arched an eyebrow, assumed a superior expression, and opened his mouth to speak when Sarah recognized the look on his face and interrupted him, suddenly furious.

"When I came home, you were unconscious. For a minute, I thought you were dead. Luckily, Gary was there to carry you to the car. I just drove nine hours in a blizzard to get you here. I'm so stiff and sore that I feel like someone has beaten me with a baseball bat. I am drenched in sweat because I kept it like an oven in here so that _you_ wouldn't get any colder. And I have been up almost 24 hours straight. So, do not--_do not_--patronize me. Do you think you feel well enough to walk? Yes or no?"

Sarah thought she would have been proud of that speech if she hadn't been close to tears by the end of it. She could feel her lips trembling and her voice broke on the last word.

Jareth looked at her for a long moment and apparently decided that it wasn't worth pushing his luck.

"Yes," he said finally. "I can walk."

"Good," she whispered and abruptly turned away from him. She wriggled into her coat and braced herself.

Then she opened the car door and stepped out into the freezing night.

--------------------------------   


Frigid cold swirled into the vehicle when Sarah opened the door and Jareth shuddered. While he was very much improved, he still was far more ill than he wanted her to see. His pride demanded that he hide it from her even though she had already seen him at his weakest state.

Contrary to what Sarah seemed to believe, he was well aware that he had almost died and that she had saved his life--a fact he found particularly galling. He disliked being indebted to anyone, much less this disrespectful girl that he was expected to _marry_.

She was a puzzling creature. Her near breakdown into tears was particularly confusing. Her behavior toward him fluctuated wildly between hostility and benevolence. However, he thought ruefully, Sarah seemed to be a master at striking that peculiarly delicate balance of hostility _during_ benevolence.

Jareth frowned. Women acted only to serve their own best interests. Bitter experience had taught him that they always wanted something in exchange for their altruism. Now, he simply had to determine what it was that Sarah wanted.

--------------------------------   


To be continued...


	6. The Games Begin

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine. 

Author's Note: A huge thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her beta skills, thoughts and suggestions regarding this story. And special thanks to Cormak, The Hooded Crow and Lady Jamie for their encouragement and support.

  


--------------------------------   


Sarah started the furnace and a fire in the fireplace. She quickly pulled her grandmother's rocking chair close to the fire. Sarah then began unloading supplies from the car. She lost track of how many trips it took. Each time she brought an armful of bags into the cabin, it grew more and more difficult to go back out into the howling snowstorm. The fact that she was damp with perspiration only made her that much colder, but she forced herself to continue unloading the car. By the time she'd carried in the last load, her hands and feet were numb and her lungs ached from breathing the freezing air. Finally, she trudged wearily back to the car to retrieve Jareth.

She opened the car door and shut off the engine, stuffing the keys in her coat pocket.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Jareth nodded.

"The snow's starting to get deep and it's a little slippery out here. If you'll slide over as close to the door as possible, I'll open it and then you can lean on me until we get inside."

"I do not believe that will be necessary," he said coolly.

She bit back the instinctive urge to tell him to fall on his face in the snow for all she cared. She wasn't blind, after all. She could see that he was still weak. For god's sake, he almost died just a few hours ago.

Again tears sprang to her eyes and, surprised, she blinked them back. What was _wrong_ with her? She gave her head a little shake. She was just overly tired, she thought, and it was making her too emotional.

"Please," she said quietly. "It would make me feel better if you would do this."

"As a courtesy to you?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes," she nodded. "A courtesy."

He hesitated and then inclined his head. "Then I will grant your request."

Sarah shut the driver's door and moved back to the passenger door. She pulled it open and stepped back just enough so that he could exit the car. As he began to stand, she had already slipped her arm around his waist and so she felt, rather than heard, his quick intake of breath as the freezing wind slammed into him forcefully.

For a moment, he teetered unsteadily and Sarah was afraid that they would both fall and then he gained his footing. As they slowly made their way to the cabin, she felt his arm come to rest across her shoulders.

As soon as they entered the cabin and closed the door, Jareth pulled away from her.

"Sit down in front of the fire. It will be warmest there," she said as she went into the kitchen area. "I'll make tea." 

--------------------------------   


As Jareth sat shivering in the chair nearest the fire, he looked around the room. He had a clear view of Sarah as she bustled about the kitchen. The kitchen and dining area were simply an extension of the living room. As he watched, Sarah opened a closed door at the rear of the kitchen and carried supplies into what seemed to be some sort of storeroom.

Two open doors to his left went into what he presumed was a bathing area and a bedroom. Between those doors was shelving that contained a small selection of books, some art supplies, and what he now recognized as a radio. 

Beige curtains covered windows on either side of the fireplace in front of him. Beneath one of the windows was a box filled with firewood. A poker, tongs and small shovel stood in a stand next to it. Against the far wall, directly across from the fireplace, was a large sofa and an armchair positioned at right angles to one another. A low table stood in front of the sofa and a smaller table was beside the chair.

Jareth heard a beeping noise and glanced over. Sarah came back into the kitchen and removed steaming mugs from yet another metal box. Bags and sacks covered the kitchen counters, the small dining table, filled the dining chairs and were stacked on the floor.

In a moment, Sarah brought over a mug of tea and handed it to him.

"You're still shivering but not nearly as much. Are you feeling better?" she asked as she sank down onto the floor beside him. 

He took a careful sip of the hot liquid and nodded. "I believe now that I am cold only because of the weather."

"It will warm up in here soon." She stretched her legs out in front of her and cautiously tilted her head from side to side. He saw her wince at the movement. "I'm sure you're still tired. The sofa folds down into a bed. I'll make it up for you."

"There is only one bedroom?" he asked, nodding toward the open doors.

"Yes," she said sharply, looking up at him, "and that's _mine_."

"I was merely inquiring," he said mildly.

He saw guilt flash through her eyes. Ah, so she was susceptible to believing herself at fault. That could be used to manipulate her. He stored that bit of information away. 

She slowly got to her feet. "I'll make up your bed. I've put the perishables away already and I'll put that stuff up in the morning." She waved toward the supplies and went into one of the open doors. When she returned, she carried bed linens, a pillow and a quilt.

He watched curiously as she removed the cushions from the sofa and then pulled up on the bottom. It lifted out and began to extend. In a moment, it had transformed into a bed. Sarah quickly put the linens on the bed, and then spread the quilt over the top.

He rose and examined the place where he was to sleep. The mattress was a bit thin, but it would suffice.

Sarah looked over at him and hesitated. "I'm going to take a shower before I go to bed. I'll try to be quick so that the sound of the water doesn't disturb you. I put the boxes with your clothes in the corner by the dining table. The pants you were wearing when you... arrived are in there."

He looked at her closely. There were dark smudges under her eyes, her face was pale and she had begun to sway slightly on her feet. It was apparent that she was exhausted.

"Perhaps," he said, "it would be more beneficial if you were to simply go to sleep. You could bathe in the morning."

She gave him a surprised look. "My neck and shoulders are so tense they hurt. The hot water will help with that."

She went back into the room where she had retrieved the linens and came out carrying the same black shirt, pink robe and slippers that she had worn earlier. She went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Sarah had been right, the room was much warmer now and when Jareth heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, he located his sleeping attire and changed into it. He laid the clothes that he had been wearing on the chair that was beside his bed. 

He examined the lamp on the table between his bed and the chair, looking for a way to extinguish the light. He finally found a knob on the side and turned it. The lamp went off, leaving the room bathed in firelight.

He lay down and tried to relax. Once again, he reached out to the Underground and once again the magic remained elusive.

He turned his mind to the question of his presence in this world. What was it the Labyrinth wanted him to do? What was so vitally important that he must remain powerless here in order to achieve it? The Labyrinth obviously wanted Sarah to return and yet it had eliminated his ability to take her. He was convinced that learning about Sarah was part of it, but was it the only reason?

He thought back to what the Labyrinth had told him.

_"She is a woman now. With a woman's dreams."_

Her dreams. 

_Look what I'm offering you..._

He grimaced. Surely it wasn't her dreams that he was expected to fulfill. He had already tried giving those to her once before only to have them thrown back in his face.

However, he mused, there was one vital difference between the past and the present. Even the Labyrinth had commented upon it.

Sarah was a woman now. With a woman's dreams.

Jareth gave a predatory smile. He knew all about women's dreams. 

And how to fulfill them.

--------------------------------   


When Sarah exited the bathroom, Jareth was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting.

"Um, goodnight," she said. She reached back and turned off the bathroom light. As she lifted her arm, he saw her wince again.

"The hot water alone did not stop the pain," he observed.

"I'll take an aspirin. It will be better tomorrow," she answered and began to walk toward her bedroom.

"I can relieve the discomfort now, if you will allow it," he told her.

She hesitated and then turned back to him.

"How?"

"I can massage the muscles until they are no longer tense," he said.

Her eyebrows shot up and she looked at him suspiciously.

"I'll be fine," she answered. 

He snorted. "You think that I have carnal intentions toward you? Your faith in my stamina is flattering, particularly considering that we are both exhausted."

"Why else would you offer?" Her voice was flat.

"I am aware that I owe you my life. Easing your pain would allow me to begin to repay my debt to you." He paused for a long moment. "I dislike being indebted."  
  
He was careful to remain expressionless as he saw the indecision on her face. Her wish to escape her suffering warred openly with her distrust.

It was time to push her a bit.

He shrugged. "If you want to remain in pain, then do so." 

"And this would be the perfect opportunity for you to make it a little worse, wouldn't it?" she shot back.

"First you believe that I intend to seduce you and moments later you believe that I intend to harm you." Jareth allowed his voice to become derisive. "You should settle on one belief or the other, Sarah. Even I am not that fickle." 

She looked abashed and then raised her head defiantly. "It's just that you haven't been very nice to me. What am I supposed to believe?"

"Perhaps this has not been my finest hour," Jareth admitted. "Recent events have been...disorienting. I am offering my assistance. But you may believe what you like."

She swallowed hard. "My neck does hurt," she said softly.

He nodded slightly and moved further onto the bed, then carefully tugged her down to sit with her back to him in the V made by his outspread legs. She held herself rigid and leaned forward, keeping as much space as possible between them.

"I am trying to help you," he said quietly.

After a moment, she moved back to sit straight up. She was not leaning against him, but she was not leaning away from him. Jareth smiled--she was willing to compromise.

It was a beginning.

He swept her hair away from her neck and began massaging the knotted muscles. As his fingers firmly stroked against her neck, her head slowly fell forward. She gave a breathless whimper as he found a particularly sore spot and he circled it lightly until the muscle had relaxed enough to endure greater pressure.

His thumbs slid down toward her back, pressing and releasing in an effort to loosen the knots he found there. Her robe began to restrict his movements and he was surprised when, after only a slight hesitation, she reached up and spread her collar open to allow him to reach the longer muscles running down her neck into her back.

He heard her make a slight humming sound in her throat, and he grinned to himself but said nothing. He continued massaging until her muscles seemed relaxed and she was swaying slightly at his touch.

"Lean back," he whispered and was pleased that she did so without question. He reached up, gently rubbing her temples with a circular motion. With a soft sigh, Sarah's head fell back against his shoulder. 

After a moment, he realized that she had gone to sleep leaning against him. Momentarily perplexed, he decided against waking her. Moving slowly, he shifted her and slid one arm along her back and the other under her knees. Rising smoothly, he picked her up and settled her on the bed. He pulled the sheet and quilt up over her.

He had not expected her to fall asleep, but it could work in his favor. He wondered what her reaction would be when she awoke in his bed.

He lay down beside her and closed his eyes.

--------------------------------   


Sarah was vaguely aware that she might be awake but her pillow was warm and it smelled good. She snuggled against the pillow and sighed contently. But there was also a vague impression that all was not quite right with the world. Her mattress was lumpy and it was poking into her leg, and her pillow wasn't as soft as it should be. But she was far too sleepy to worry about these things now. The pillow smelled really good and she was warm. That was enough of a trade off.   


She began to sink back into sleep when her pillow spoke, its voice a low rumbling in her ear.   


"Unless you are attempting to gain more of my attention than you already have, you should refrain from wiggling."   


Sarah's eyes shot open and she realized that her head was resting on Jareth's shoulder. Worse, one arm was lying across his waist and one of her legs was between his thighs.   


So that would mean that the thing currently poking her was... 

"Oh, my god." Sarah gasped abruptly and flung herself back from him, scrambling to get away. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?"   


"Your bed?" He sat up and arched an eyebrow. "You are in _my_ bed."   


Looking around frantically, Sarah realized that he was right. The light filtering through the curtains told her that it was morning.

"How did I get here?" she asked, confused. She looked over at the open door to her bedroom and then glanced down and saw that she was still wearing her robe.  


"You fell asleep," he said. "I did not wish to wake you, and so I allowed you to stay here. Although, _you_ moved closer to me during the night." 

She remembered how wonderful it had felt when he'd rubbed her neck, but she didn't remember anything past that point.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I guess I was more tired than I realized." She swung her legs over the side of the sofa-sleeper.

She turned to go to her room when his words made her freeze.   


"I had thought you'd moved closer to me for a particular purpose," he said softly.   


"Yeah, I could tell," she said dryly. She didn't look back at him. "I'm going to get dressed."   
  
--------------------------------   


Once in her room, Sarah sat on the edge of her bed and dropped her head into her hands. How humiliating. Jareth had thought that she was coming on to him. She couldn't blame him for thinking it. The way she'd been draped over him, what other impression could he have gotten? Although, he certainly hadn't seemed adverse to the idea. Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the feeling of Jareth's arousal pressed firmly against her leg. Some distinctly feminine part of her nature gave a pleased sigh that she'd been able to cause him to react in that manner.

Sarah quickly shoved that thought away. She could not let Jareth know that she found him appealing. No matter how physically attracted she was to him, there were two important reasons that she couldn't have sex with him. The most obvious was that she didn't want to leave her life here behind and go back to the Underground.

She quickly gave herself another mental kick for making that deal. She should have known better than to trust anything to do with the Underground even in a dream.

But there was a less obvious reason for not being intimate with Jareth. The truth of the matter was that while she wasn't a complete innocent, she was still a virgin. She'd always wanted her first time to be with a man she loved and who loved her in return. She and Jareth certainly didn't love each other. Her romantic, starry-eyed fantasies about him had proved to be just so much unrealistic nonsense.

Sarah knew that she'd never actually been in love. Not even with Mark. How she could have ever trusted... No, her mind said as it shied away from that subject, no thinking about Mark. She had enough to deal with right now without adding that distasteful subject to the mix.

Her mind turned back to Jareth. Why had he offered to rub her neck? Was it only because he didn't like being indebted to her? The more Sarah thought about it, the more logical it seemed. Jareth was obviously extremely proud and she could believe that he would view her help as an obligation that he needed to repay.

Sarah's stomach gave a low growl and she glanced over at the clock and saw that it was almost 10:00 a.m. She needed to make something to eat and she still had all the supplies to put away. Sighing, she pulled on jeans and a sweater. She ran a brush through her hair and opened her bedroom door.

She didn't see Jareth but heard the shower running. She rebuilt the fire in the fireplace and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. Even though she'd complained to Gary about the price, she was now very glad she'd had the propane tank filled last month.

She picked up a couple of bags containing canned goods and carried them into the storage room. The generator was in there, along with an upright freezer, washer and dryer, and boxes of odds and ends that she'd never managed to make herself throw away after her family had died.

Well, she thought, not all of her family. Her mother was still alive but stayed so busy with her acting career that there was very little contact between them. Sarah remembered her mother's presence at the funeral as nothing more than a whirlwind of black silk crepe and bright red lipstick. Linda had flown in for the funeral and flown out three hours later after posing for pictures in which she'd appeared appropriately grief stricken.

Grief stricken. Saran shook her head. Linda's presence might have been a blur, but her last words to Sarah before driving back to the airport rang out vividly in Sarah's mind.

Her mother had wished her a merry Christmas.

--------------------------------   


Rest had done wonders for Jareth. His strength had returned, and the chills and nausea he'd been experiencing were gone. Unfortunately, his magic was also still gone. Without it he felt incomplete, as if he were only a shadow, something insubstantial. He had no place in this world full of iron and disbelief. He had to return to the Underground and Sarah's dreams were the key to that return.

While he showered, Jareth contemplated the best way to seduce her.

He hadn't been surprised when Sarah had moved toward him during the night, and so he had pulled her to him. He had no doubt that she was attracted to him. He clearly remembered the way she had looked at him when he'd first arrived in her home and her occasional blushes and stammers were equally as telling.

What had confounded him was that Sarah had made no advances. The women who turned to him in the night always wanted more than simple physical contact and yet Sarah had merely sighed softly against his neck and slipped back into sleep. He wasn't certain now that she'd truly been awake.

When she had started to stir, his body had reacted instinctively to having a warm, pliant woman wriggling against him and he had waited for Sarah to understand that he was responding and to escalate the encounter. But, again, she had not reacted as he'd expected. There had been no hesitant kisses or caresses, no whispered declarations of ardor.

In fact, after her initial confusion over her location had been dispelled, she had simply apologized to him and left the bed. She had not even made any outraged accusations of ulterior motives or demanded to know why he had not awakened her.

Sarah's actions were not those of the women to which he was accustomed. Seducing her might be a more delicate process than he had originally thought. He would have to obtain additional information in order to determine the best way to proceed. However, in order to do that, he would need to overcome Sarah's inherent suspicion of him.

He turned off the shower, and as he picked up a towel, he decided upon the most expedient way to accomplish his goal. 

--------------------------------   


Sarah was arranging the cans on the shelves along the wall when Jareth came to the door. She took in the dark blue suit he wore and saw that he was wearing the gloves she had given him. It was a bit odd to see someone dressed so formally in a place she associated with casual vacations and relaxation. But, she thought, it was appropriate for him. Somehow, she just couldn't imagine him wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt.

She dropped her eyes as she remembered their earlier encounter and felt herself blushing. Damn, she had to stop doing that.

"I had thought this was a storeroom," he said.

"Yes, I'm just putting these things away," she replied. "How are you feeling?" 

Jareth walked further into the room and looked around curiously.

"I am much improved," he said. "Have you looked outside this morning?"

"No." Sarah glanced at him. "Is it still snowing?"

"Yes," he nodded. He stepped closer to her and gestured toward the canned goods. "Would you like me to help you?"

"Look," Sarah said abruptly, turning to face him, "let's just call it even, okay? I feel better and you feel better. You don't owe me anything."

"Not even an apology?" he asked softly.

"An apology? From you?" she sounded incredulous.

Jareth looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you believe me incapable of it?"

Sarah nodded. "Well, yes, actually, I do. What exactly would you be apologizing for?"

He hesitated. "When I was ill, I made an inappropriate comment regarding your life."

"My "pathetic little life," you mean?" Sarah crossed her arms over her chest.

Jareth grimaced. "My comment was unkind and unfair. I know nothing of your life and you have my apology."

She looked at him silently for a long moment.

"I'd always heard that the fae were capricious, but you swing back and forth so fast that I can't keep up. Nice one minute, rude the next," she said finally. "I never know what to expect from you."

He arched an eyebrow. "And your attitude toward me has not fluctuated as well?" His tone was even.

Sarah started to deny his statement and then remembered her outburst after learning of his "acquaintances."

"All right. I accept your apology," she said slowly.

"Then might I suggest that we begin anew?"

"Anew?" Sarah asked. She frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

He gave a slight smile and then said, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jareth, King of the Goblins."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise and she looked at him carefully. Was he making fun of her? He seemed sincere, but then, he usually did. That was his stock and trade, wasn't it? Even when that sincerity was false.

She bit her lip. Oh, well, she thought, if he gave her any more trouble, she'd just shove him out into the cold and lock the door. She grinned suddenly at the thought.

Lifting her head high, she pulled at an imaginary skirt and dipped into a curtsy. She watched a smile briefly tug at his mouth before he adopted a serious expression. When she rose, she held out her hand.

"I'm Sarah Williams. I'm pleased to meet you," she replied.

He took her hand, but instead of shaking it as she expected, he took her hand in his and bowed over it.

"It seems that you have a great number of filled bags in the next room and an equally great number of empty shelves in this one," he said. "May I assist you?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied with a shy smile.

"Where shall I begin?" Jareth asked. "Would you like me to carry the remaining bags into this room?"

"Are you sure you're feeling better? Some of them are heavy."

"I am quite well," he assured her.

Before she could answer, the teakettle began to shriek in the kitchen.

"Why don't we have breakfast first. Then we can sort out the supplies. Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Yes," Jareth said with a slight smile. "I seem to have missed dinner. Unconsciousness does make dining difficult."

Sarah blinked at him. "Did you just make a joke?" 

His smile widened. "Did you think I have no sense of humor?"

"No, I knew you had a sense of humor. I just always though it was more..." her voice trailed off.

"Unorthodox?" he suggested.

"Vicious," she said slowly.

It was his turn to look surprised.

"Then it is a good thing that we have agreed to begin anew," Jareth said quietly. "Perhaps I can change your opinion of me."

"Maybe," Sarah met his eyes. "I guess we'll see."

--------------------------------   


After a quick breakfast, Sarah began arranging the supplies on the shelves while Jareth carried the rest of the bags into the storeroom.

"There," he said, as he placed an armful of sacks on top of the dryer. "This is the last."

Sarah nodded her thanks and then glanced around the room in dismay. The bags covered the tops of the appliances and almost all of the floor space. 

"I didn't realize I'd bought so much," she sighed.

Jareth reached into a bag and pulled out a package of rice. "Shall I help you put these things on the shelves?"

Sarah smiled and said, "Not unless you want to do the cooking. I need to know where everything is and if we both put this stuff up, something's going to get misplaced. Thank you, though."

Sarah stood on tiptoes and reached up to put a box of laundry detergent on the topmost shelf.

"Allow me," Jareth said and he moved close to her, his body barely brushing hers and took the box and began to place it on the shelf.

She froze for a moment at the contact. Her heart was suddenly beating faster and it was difficult to catch her breath. She quickly lowered her arm and took a half-step back. Jareth didn't seem to notice her reaction; he merely put the detergent on a lower shelf and then reached back to the top shelf.

"There is something already here," he said and pulled down a small black and red case.

"Oh," Sarah exclaimed. "I haven't seen that in years. I'd wondered what happened to it."

Jareth held the case out to her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's my old backgammon set," she replied, brushing the dust off the case with her hand. "It's a game," she continued in explanation. "I used to be pretty good at it, too."

"I am familiar with the game of backgammon," he said. "However, when I learned it originally, it was called by a different name."

Sarah looked up Jareth and saw his intent expression as he regarded the case in her hands. The legends claimed that the fae loved games, she recalled.

She glanced quickly around the storage room. There wasn't anything in here that couldn't wait. She grinned at Jareth and held up the case.

"Want to play?" she asked.

Jareth gave a slow smile and his eyes suddenly gleamed. "I would be delighted."

--------------------------------   



	7. Questions

The Enticement

by Scattered Logic   


Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.

Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


--------------------------------   


They set up the game on the coffee table with Jareth sitting on the sofa and Sarah cross-legged on the floor, facing him.

Jareth examined the doubling cube. "What are the stakes?" he asked casually.

Sarah shook her head. "Nothing. We just play."

"But having something at stake always makes the game more interesting," he commented.

"I don't mean to be rude, but you don't have anything to bet. You don't have any money here," she pointed out.

He smiled faintly. He wasn't interested in money. As soon as she had asked if he wanted to play, he'd known exactly what he wanted.

"Why don't we play for answers?" he suggested.

"Answers to what?" Sarah asked.

"For every game that I win, you will completely answer--with total honesty--one question of my choosing, and that includes expanding on a yes or no answer. For every game that you win, I will do the same," he said mildly.

He saw the sudden interest in her eyes.

"I could ask anything I wanted and you would be totally honest?" she asked slowly.

Jareth nodded. "As long as you are willing to adhere to the same conditions."

She nibbled on her bottom lip and looked at the board. Finally, she looked back at him.

"All right," she agreed.

Jareth smiled. While he had no doubt that he could word the answer to any question she asked in such a way that it adhered to the rules without giving away more than he wanted, Sarah must be very certain of her abilities to agree to his terms so easily.

This promised to be most amusing.

"How many games shall we play?" he asked.

"As many as we want, I guess," Sarah shrugged and then grinned. "Or until I feel guilty over playing games instead of putting up the supplies."

Jareth picked up one of the dice and held the other out to Sarah.  
  
"Shall we begin?" he asked.

Sarah won the initial roll and chose to play black, leaving Jareth to play white. The role reversal was a refreshing change. He had predicted being relegated to black.

To his surprise, Sarah was a better player than he had anticipated and he found himself enjoying the game immensely. It was with a great deal of regret that he deliberately made the subtle mistake that allowed her to win. But he wanted at least one advantage and this was his only opportunity to gain the particular benefit he wanted.

As Sarah moved her last piece from the board, she looked up at him in triumph and then leaned back, resting her hands on the floor and narrowing her eyes in contemplation.

Finally, she tilted her head, looked at him and asked, "When I was in the Labyrinth and you sent the Cleaners and your army after me, did you mean to kill me?"

He laughed. "If I had meant to kill you, Sarah, you would be dead. The Cleaners were only a test of your resourcefulness. If you had not pressed against the wall, the Cleaners would have simply stopped and blocked your way. My army was only supposed to capture you." He sighed. "They are overly enthusiastic at times, however, and can become caught up in the heat of the moment. You were in more danger from their incompetence than their skill."

Jareth smiled and arched an eyebrow. "Shall we play again?" he asked.

"Okay," she nodded.

This time Jareth was determined to win. While Sarah put up a valiant struggle, a fortuitous roll of double six allowed him to take the game.

He grinned but said nothing and began setting the board up again.

"Are you going to forfeit your question?" Sarah asked, puzzled.

"Of course not," he said, still moving the pieces back into opening position.

"But you haven't asked me anything." She frowned slightly.

"I believe I shall defer my question until I know better what I wish to ask," he said softly.

He saw comprehension flare in her eyes a split second before they narrowed in exasperation. He had set no time limit set and she had agreed.

Sarah shook her head and pointed to the board. "If you're going to store up questions, then no more games. I don't want to be ambushed later."

Jareth had anticipated her response and made an effort to appear disappointed. He pretended to contemplate the situation for a moment and then offered his compromise.

"Any additional questions must be asked before the end of the day in which the game has been played. That should prevent an "ambush," as you call it," he said.

"Including the question you've already won," she said quickly.

"No," he shook his head. "I won that question with no time restrictions. That does not change."

She was silent for a long moment and then finally nodded. "All right. You can keep that _one_. But from now on, every question has to be asked the same day that the game is played."

"Agreed," he said with a smile.

--------------------------------   


They played backgammon all afternoon, each game getting progressively longer as they learned the other's strengths and weaknesses. Jareth had the distinct advantage of more experience and was the superior strategist, but the sheer luck involved in each roll of the dice and Sarah's unpredictability kept them well matched.

As Jareth moved the last of his pieces from the board, winning another game, Sarah's stomach growled loudly. She looked embarrassed and Jareth chuckled.

"I am a bit hungry, also," he admitted.

Sarah glanced at her watch. "It's no wonder. We played through lunch and it's time for dinner."

Jareth smiled as he began placing the pieces back into the case. All in all, it had been quite an enjoyable afternoon and he had won three additional questions to Sarah's two.

"Perhaps we should dine and then ask our questions," he suggested. 

Sarah agreed and while she prepared dinner, Jareth added wood to the fire and lifted the curtain away from one of the windows. All he could see in the darkness was the swirl of blowing snow against the glass.

"It continues to snow," he told her.

"We'll have to bring in more wood tomorrow," she said, craning her neck to look at the wood box. "I think we've got enough for tonight. I just hope we don't lose the electricity. There's a generator, but we'd have to use the furnace sparingly and rely mainly on the fireplace for heat."

At his blank look, she shook her head and laughed softly. "It's not important," she said. "But I should have had a telephone installed up here. My grandfather never wanted one and I just never bothered. I didn't want the extra expense. I told Gary I'd call him, but I thought I'd be able to drive into Hague and use a pay phone. I didn't expect this storm."

In a few minutes, a delicious smell began filling the room and Jareth walked over to see what Sarah was cooking. She was sautéing onions and slices of meat. A pot of water was heating on another part of the stove.

"I hope you like beef stroganoff," she said.  
  
"I do not know," he said. "I have never had it before, but it smells very good."

He casually leaned close to her and looked into the skillet. He noticed her stiffen and move away from him slightly. That was the second time his presence had made her uneasy. The first was in the storage room when he had deliberately brushed against her. He glanced at her and saw that she had her eyes firmly fixed on the food that she was cooking. A faint blush tinged her cheeks.

He smirked to himself. Her attraction to him was painfully transparent but, once again, he pretended that he had noticed nothing and moved away from her.

"May I help you in some way?" he asked politely.

"You could turn on the radio, I'd like to hear a news or weather report. I doubt that you'll get anything, though. The clouds are so low here that it may block reception, but it's worth a try," she said.

Jareth went to the radio and looked at it. After careful examination, he found a small button labeled 'power' and pressed it. He was rewarded with the sight of lights on the front of the radio. However, no sound came from the black boxes sitting on either side.

"I believe it is defective," he called to her.

"There's a button that slides from side to side. See if it's set on radio. If it's on CD or tape, then move it."

He found the button and slid it to the radio position. In a moment, the sound of static filled the air. Sarah heard the sound and gave him instructions on finding a radio station. He turned the knob labeled 'tuner,' but found only more static.

In a moment, she was at his side.

"Well, we're obviously not going to listen to the radio." She moved the button back to CD. "Let me show you how to work the CD player."

After a quick lesson, she pointed to several small plastic boxes lying on the shelves.

"Play whatever you like," she said over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen area.

"These contain music?" he murmured as he examined his reflection in the shiny surface of a compact disc. "How astonishing."

For the next half-hour, Jareth entertained himself by playing snippets of each song on each CD that she had at the cabin. Most were classical, but there was some Celtic and New Age music interspersed with the Beethoven, Rachmaninoff and Mahler. He had just settled on a disc that held a variety of composers when he glanced in Sarah's direction. She was setting the table and had stopped to watch him. Her expression seemed almost melancholy.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head slightly and then smiled brightly. "No, nothing's wrong. Dinner's ready."

--------------------------------   


While Sarah set the table, she laughed to herself over the sight of Jareth absorbed in switching the compact discs and playing bits of songs. She thought back over his total focus on the games they had played that afternoon and how he'd smiled widely at each win and pouted slightly at each loss. There was a distinctly childish side to his nature, she mused. She corrected herself almost immediately. It wasn't so much childish as _childlike_. But then, he was fae and wasn't that how they were supposed to act? With a little shock, the logical conclusion of that bit of knowledge finally sank in.

Jareth wasn't human and it wasn't fair to judge him by human standards. Tricks and games and riddles were as much a part of him as his blond hair and intriguing eyes.

How boring she must seem in comparison, she thought plaintively.

"Is something wrong?" Jareth asked.

She blinked and shook her head. "No, nothing's wrong." She forced herself to smile brightly. "Dinner's ready."

She prepared their plates and as she moved to sit down, Jareth held her chair for her.

"Thank you," she said, surprised.

While they ate, she puzzled over the change in Jareth. Just yesterday, he had been rude and arrogant, and yet today he was charming and pleasant.

'He was sick,' her mind pointed out. 'He was _dying_. How charming would you have been in his condition?'

Maybe that's all it was, she thought. Or maybe that's what she wanted to believe. Illusion was part of his nature. So, which was the illusion? It was so difficult to figure him out.

Jareth spoke, interrupting her thoughts. "This dish is excellent," he said as he took a bite of stroganoff.

"Thank you. Um, have you thought any more about why you don't have any magic?" she asked. "Have you figured out what the Labyrinth wants you to do?" She looked down at her plate and held her breath.

Jareth took a sip of water. "I have thought about it, yes. But I'm not certain why the Labyrinth has left me here with no way to take you back to the Underground. I have apparently been set a task and yet I still do not know what it is."

She gave a silent sigh of relief. She was safe so far, she thought.

"You're taking everything so calmly," she said. "It was obvious that you weren't--aren't--happy about the situation, but I guess I... I expected you to throw a screaming fit." She smiled slightly. "I think I would have."

He looked surprised. "How would that have helped?"

"It wouldn't," she shook her head. "It was the reaction I expected, that's all."

"I will rant and rave if you would prefer," Jareth said with a faint smile.

"No, thanks, " she said dryly, "but I appreciate the offer."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to be disappointed," he said softly.

Sarah looked at him quickly. His voice had almost seemed... suggestive. But surely she was wrong, he wasn't even looking at her, he had turned his attention back to his meal.

--------------------------------   


After dinner, Sarah was pleased when Jareth helped her carry the dishes to the kitchen counter.

As she began to fill the sink up with soapy water, she was even more surprised when he offered to help her clean up.

"I am unfamiliar with scullery duties," Jareth said, looking doubtfully at the bubbles frothing in the sink, "but I am willing to assist you."

"You've never washed a dish in your life, have you?" Sarah said, looking at him thoughtfully.

"There are servants who attend to those matters," he said, a slight haughtiness coloring his voice.

Sarah grinned to herself. 'You can take the royalty out of the castle,' she thought. She began washing the dishes and gave him a sidelong look. "And what do the servants get in exchange?"

"They are given a wage and I provide them with a safe kingdom in which to live," he said.

"_You_ do?" she asked a bit skeptically.

He arched an eyebrow. "Who do you suppose attends political gatherings? Prevents the other kingdoms from usurping Goblin territory? Settles the disputes between the minor nobles? Hears grievances from his subjects?"

"You do that?" Sarah was surprised.

"That and much more," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "Being a king isn't quite what the tales of your world depict. Who do you think makes certain that the roads are built and the bridges are kept in good repair?" Jareth paused and shot her a pointed look. "I should send you a bill for that, by the way."

Sarah gave a snort of laughter and he smiled. 

She looked over at him and sobered. "Are you a good king?" she asked seriously.

He tilted his head and his tone matched hers, "Ask any man if he is good and he will answer yes, regardless of whether it is the truth or not because he wants to you to believe that he is good. Ask a king if he is a good king and he will answer yes because he cannot afford to state otherwise."

Sarah rinsed off the last dish and placed it in the drain rack. She dried her hands and turned to face him. "Then I'm using one of my questions. Complete and total honesty. Are you a good king?"

His smile faded and for a long moment she thought he wasn't going to answer. 

"I endeavor to be a good king," he said finally, "but I cannot answer that question with any certainty. Goblins are virtually indestructible creatures with limited intelligence and they require a very firm hand. They are difficult to rule and knowing what is most beneficial to them is sometimes unclear." Jareth hesitated. "I do my best."

Sarah nodded. It was an honest answer.

"You try to take care of your subjects. I'd say that makes you a good king." Sarah smiled and then suddenly remembered dessert. "Damn," she exclaimed.

"Does that disappoint you?" Jareth looked confused.

"No," Sarah said. "I forgot dessert. I bought cookies but we haven't unpacked them yet. I'll go dig through the bags and see if I can find them. Then I'll make tea and we can finish asking the questions."

Jareth shook his head. "I will look for them while you make tea. It will save time. I wish to ask my questions next."

"All right. They're butter cookies. They're in a round tin with a picture of a snowman on the lid."

"A snowman?" He surely hadn't heard her correctly.

Sarah laughed. "If it ever stops snowing, I'll show you what a real one looks like. Imagine a very crude figure kind of sculpted out of snow and that's what a snowman looks like."

He gave a bemused shake of his head, but went into the storage room to look for the cookies. 

Sarah had surprised him. He had expected all her questions to deal directly with herself or his intentions toward her. He had not considered that she would want to know about his duties or if he thought himself a good king. He'd never encountered a woman who had cared to ask. They were only ever interested in what he could do for them. Or to them...

Jareth blinked as it occurred to him that Sarah was the first woman to say that she believed him to be a good king.

He quickly dismissed those thoughts. It wouldn't do to become sidetracked. He would use his questions to determine exactly how best to proceed with his seduction. Then, when he had granted Sarah's dreams, he would be free to return to the Underground and to take her back with him.

He began looking through the bags when a flash of gold caught his attention. He reached into the bag and lifted out a bottle of champagne affixed with a red bow. He looked into the bag again and found a bottle of Chardonnay and bottle of Pinot Noir, both had similar red bows attached as if they were to be a gift.

He hadn't realized that Sarah had purchased wine. The Pinot Noir would have gone nicely with dinner. Suddenly, he recalled answering the door at Sarah's apartment. There had been a visit from a woman, he vaguely remembered. Hadn't she given him a bag for Sarah? He had been in such pain that it had been all he could do to keep to his feet, much less remember what the woman had said. Something about a present and portraits, wasn't it? And flesh and blood being warmer than paint and canvas.

A beige folder remained inside the bag and, curious, Jareth pulled it out. A note was attached to the front of the folder.

__

Sarah, don't get mad, but I had a little quickie brochure made up. I still don't understand why you won't you sell these. I thought if I got you drunk, you'd consider it. Give it some thought, sweetie. It's a lot of money and the buyer is a well-known collector. This could really help your career. Merry Christmas, Jean.

Jareth opened the folder and his mouth dropped open in surprise. A slick piece of paper proclaimed "Jareth, the Goblin King" across the top in swirling script. Below his name and title, in slightly smaller lettering, were the words, "An oil on canvas series by Sarah Williams."

Across the page were color pictures of four paintings. He was the subject of each.

Each portrayed him from Sarah's perspective as she had encountered him eight years ago. The first was entitled 'Temptation' and depicted him holding a crystal out toward the viewer. He was dressed formally and his expression was one of self-assured arrogance.

In the second portrait, 'Dangers Untold,' he stood in the tunnels under the Labyrinth, head tilted to one side, casually adjusting a glove. Jareth nodded to himself as he remembered that encounter. It had been just before he'd set the Cleaners on Sarah and the dwarf.

The background of the third painting, 'Cruelty,' was the room he had created after seeing a poster in her bedroom. Again, he held a crystal but this time it wasn't being used to entice, it was clearly a threat.

The last portrait, entitled 'Temptation Revisited,' was the sight of him once again holding out a crystal. He recognized his clothing and briefly shuddered. He'd been so close to reverting to owl form during that exchange that even his clothing had reflected it. He had been furious that someone had at last solved the Labyrinth, and humiliated that he was being compelled to offer himself to her. His every instinct had screamed at him to simply fly away from the horrible situation but he had forced himself to stay.

When Sarah had refused him, he'd known that she was too young. His only option had been to allow her to go and try to make the Labyrinth understand his actions.

He examined the pictures again. He was amazed at how well Sarah had captured his likeness. While he had told her that her drawings were simply adequate, she was actually a skilled artist. The Labyrinth had truly given her a wonderful gift.

As he looked at the paintings, the potential of the paper he held in his hand became crystal clear.

He grinned to himself in delight.

Sarah should find his first question most interesting.

--------------------------------   


"I would like to ask my first question now," Jareth said as he came out of the storage room.

Sarah noticed that he hadn't found the cookies. Damn, those were her favorites, too. She hoped they hadn't fallen out in the trunk of the car. Maybe Jareth had just overlooked them in the storage room. She'd check in a minute.

"Okay," she said, "Go ahead."

"Would you care to explain this?" Jareth drawled. He held a folder of some kind out to her.

Puzzled, Sarah took the folder from his hand and felt the blood drain from her face as she read the note attached to the front. She quickly opened the folder and looked at the brochure inside. She knew her mouth was opening and closing like some demented goldfish but she couldn't seem to force out any sound.

'Oh, Jean,' Sarah thought. 'If I ever see you again, you're a dead woman.'

Sarah crumpled the brochure in her fist and then tossed the folder onto the kitchen counter. She didn't know how Jareth got it, but it really didn't matter now.

Just what the hell was she supposed to say? 'Well, Jareth, you see, I had a terrible crush on you for years and felt compelled to paint your portrait over and over again. Oh, and while we're at it, let me tell you about the recurring dream I had about you, me and a jar of caramel sauce.'

She _couldn't_ look at him. But she did.

Jareth wore a faint smile and the look of self-satisfied insolence on his face was enough to make her want to slap him. And she would, too. Just as soon as she crawled out of the hole she was hoping would swallow her up any second now.

She closed her eyes briefly. She had to answer. She had promised to answer those questions completely and with total honesty. At that thought, something occurred to her. She turned it over in her mind until she was satisfied, took a deep breath, and then looked directly into Jareth's eyes.

"No," Sarah said firmly. "I wouldn't care to explain this. I wouldn't care to explain this at all. Explaining this would be unpleasant. And that is a complete and honest answer."

--------------------------------   



	8. The Daughter of Time

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine. 

Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.

Additional Author's Note: This chapter refers to "The Daughter of Time," written by Josephine Tey. If you enjoy historical mysteries, I highly recommend this book. It addresses an actual mystery as examined by fictional characters.  


--------------------------------   


When Sarah answered, Jareth was momentarily infuriated. But he had to admit that his haste had caused him to word the question poorly. He felt a fleeting admiration; her answer was worthy of a fae. It was, in fact, the very type of answer that _he_ would have given had the situation been reversed. He lifted an eyebrow as he looked her over. Perhaps there was more to her than he had first thought.

He applauded mockingly. "Very good, Sarah. I shall be more deliberate in my choice of words from this point forward."

He smiled slowly as she dropped her eyes.

The teakettle began a stuttering whistle and Sarah said warily, "I'll make the tea and then you can ask your next question."

Sarah procrastinated as long as she could, dragging out the process of steeping the tea and pouring it into mugs. She even rinsed the mugs in hot water before pouring the tea, just like she'd read in a magazine. But stalling wasn't doing any good. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jareth waiting patiently on the sofa, watching her every movement with glittering eyes.

With a sigh, she carried the tea over and sat on the sofa next to him.

"Go ahead," she said evenly. "Ask."

He smirked at her and then asked, "Why would you repeatedly paint my portrait and then refuse to sell them?"

Sarah thought for a moment before answering. There wasn't going to be a slippery way out of this question. She bowed her head and stared at her fingers gripping the handle of the mug.

"I really don't know why I painted so _many_ portraits of you," she said quietly. "Now I believe that it was because of the Labyrinth. At the time, though, all I knew was that it was like a compulsion. I _had_ to paint them. It was almost as if I didn't have a choice. Jean kept trying to convince me to sell, but I..."

Sarah could feel her face growing hot and she took a deep breath. It was better to just get this over with.

"I'd had such a crush on you when I went through the Labyrinth that I didn't want to sell them." That sentence tumbled out in a rush of words and Sarah immediately tensed, waiting for the laughter that was certain to follow.

--------------------------------   


Jareth's smile widened as she spoke. He'd already suspected as much, but Sarah had given her word to answer completely and truthfully and he'd wanted to know if she would adhere to that promise even if it embarrassed her. It was very apparent that she now expected to be ridiculed.

He instinctively opened his mouth to oblige her with a scornful comment and then paused as her earlier words whispered through his mind.

_I'd say that makes you a good king._

And Jareth wavered in his intent.

Well, it was such a small matter, after all, he decided. It would serve no real purpose to tease Sarah. In fact, it would only increase her embarrassment and hinder his plans. He could afford to be magnanimous. 

"You were supposed to be infatuated with me," he admitted.

Her head whipped around toward him. "What did you say?"

He shrugged slightly. "It is a part of my duties to distract those who choose to go through the Labyrinth. While I use any number of methods, young girls seem to be most easily distracted by a bit of flirtation."

"So you flirt with them in order to keep the child," she said flatly.

He shook his head. "No, I attempt to distract them from retrieving the child."

"Same thing," she said.

"It is not the same at all. If they can be so easily tempted away from their goal, they do not deserve to have the child returned to them."

He watched as she absorbed that information.

"I'm going to ask my last question now," Sarah said.

He nodded. She had turned toward him, he noted with satisfaction. She'd relaxed her posture and had shifted on the sofa so that she was facing him.

"What _really_ happens to the children who are wished away to you?" 

"In all but your brother's case, the child remains in the Underground and is adopted into a family."

"But don't you... I mean, I thought you turned them into goblins," Sarah said, looking confused.

"Turn them into goblins?" His eyebrows shot up. "Why ever would I do such a thing? Goblins procreate in the usual fashion. Surely, you know how babies are made?" He watched with a faint smirk as she glanced away from him. He expected her to be blushing, but when she looked back at him, her brow was furrowed slightly.

"I know I've used up my questions, but you said "those who choose to go through the Labyrinth." Are there people who don't even try?" She sounded puzzled.

Jareth sighed. He would prefer not to pursue this subject. It was the most abhorrent part of his duties. But perhaps it was best that Sarah learn the truth now. He just hoped she had the stomach for it.

"More than you would probably imagine choose not to run the Labyrinth," he said. "The majority of the children I take are wished away either because the family can no longer provide for them or because the child was unwanted from the beginning." He frowned. "Many of the children I take are... injured."

For a moment, Sarah didn't understand what Jareth meant and then it dawned on her.

"Abused, you mean?" she asked.

Jareth nodded and contempt flashed across his face.

"I have been called to take children who were malnourished, children with broken bones or other wounds. Many must be healed immediately upon being taken. A few have been near death."

Sarah felt sick. "That never occurred to me," she said slowly. "I just thought that..."

Jareth lifted an eyebrow and gave a cold smile.

"Did you think that it was all spoiled little girls wishing away their healthy baby brothers in a fit of petulance?"

Sarah flinched, but she guessed she deserved that. She could only imagine the horrors that he had seen.

"I have answered your question, and more." He shook his head slightly. "While you have asked all of your questions, I have not."

"All right." Sarah nodded. "What do you want to know?"

Jareth thought for a moment. He wanted to lighten the mood a bit.

"You do not wish to return to the Underground. What is there about this world that you prefer?"

"There are a lot of things," Sarah said, making a vague hand gesture.

"List them," Jareth demanded as he leaned forward slightly.

Sarah laughed softly. "I can't tell you all of them, there are too many."

"Then tell me the most important ones," Jareth insisted.

Sarah narrowed her eyes in concentration. "We have electricity and technology." 

"We have magic," Jareth countered.

She arched an eyebrow. "We have libraries."

He shrugged. "_I_ have a library."

"I have a career," she said quickly.

"You could be a queen," he purred.

Sarah's eyes widened slightly at his tone and she faltered in her recitation for just a moment but then continued with a smug smile.  


"We have indoor plumbing."

"We have unicorns and dragons." His eyes flashed with triumph.

For a second, Sarah was confused. "What do unicorns and dragons have to do with plumbing?"

"Nothing," he said with a grin, "but if you had your choice between seeing a toilet or a unicorn, which would you choose?"

"It depends on how badly I need to see the toilet," she said wryly.

Even Jareth laughed at that.

Sarah met his eyes. "It's not that I have anything against the Underground, it's actually an amazing place." She smiled fondly for a moment, then sobered. "It's just that this is my world."

"This world is familiar to you," Jareth said thoughtfully.

"Yes, it is," she said. "Just like the Underground is familiar to you."

"But the Underground is familiar to you, as well," he said.

"I was there less than 13 hours," she answered. "I wouldn't call that being familiar."  
  
Jareth shook his head. "You already know many of its locations and inhabitants through your artwork."

"That's not the same thing."

He simply shrugged and casually stretched one arm along the back of the sofa.

  
Sarah shifted uneasily.

Jareth kept his arm in place and in a moment, when he made no further movements, he saw her relax. He smiled to himself. She didn't seem to realize that her complete awareness of him continually gave her away.

"Your current home is not the same as the one in which I encountered you last," he remarked mildly.

"No, I still lived in my dad's house then," she said. "In Connecticut."

She smiled at his blank look. "Connecticut is a state. We're in New York now." He gave a slight shake of his head and she continued. "Like a province," she explained.

He nodded. "So, you left your father's house and moved to a unfamiliar home in an unfamiliar province."

"It's not the same," she repeated, exasperation filtering into her tone. "You're talking about a different _world_."

Jareth wondered if the dreamer that she used to be was still there inside her. It was time to find out. He spoke softly and she unconsciously leaned closer.

"A different world, yes. A world in which magic exists, Sarah. A world in which unicorns and dragons are real and a young girl can grow up to become a queen as the result of simply making a wish."

Jareth searched her eyes and was pleased to see a wistful longing among the confused emotions there. So, the dreamer was still alive and well. It was time to gather more information, and to play the next card.

"I have one question left to ask," he began.

"Two," she interrupted.

"One question left to ask _tonight_," he continued with a smirk.

Sarah smiled and gave a shrug. "It was worth a try."

He grinned.

"If I were to grant any single wish that you made, what would you wish?" he asked.

Sarah's smile faded and she looked away from him. "You can't grant my wish." Her voice was suddenly strained.

Jareth was perplexed by her rapid change in demeanor.

"You do not know that for certain." He arched an eyebrow. "When my magic has returned, perhaps I can grant your wish."

She drew in a shuddering breath and then met his gaze.

"I wish that my family were still alive," she said softly.

His initial reaction was surprise at learning that her family was dead. But when he saw the hope that was suddenly shining in her eyes, surprise quickly gave way to an unexpectedly sharp stab of regret at his careless words.

"Forgive me," he said quietly. "You are correct. It is not within my power to grant such wishes."

He watched as the hope dwindled away and she nodded her understanding. She looked away from him, gazing into the fire. There was a long pause and then she began speaking in a wooden voice.

"It was an accident," she said. "The furnace didn't work properly and it caused a build up of a poisonous gas in the house. They were asleep and they just didn't..." She bit her lip and then continued. "Gary says that I should be grateful that they didn't suffer."

"All of them died?" Jareth asked quietly. "Even the boy?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Four years ago tomorrow." Tears flooded her eyes and she abruptly stood. "Excuse me, please."

Without waiting for his reply, she went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Jareth cursed himself for a fool. He'd chosen to press his advantage and had only succeeded in upsetting her. He rubbed his eyes wearily. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose your entire family. Death was almost unimaginable to him. The fae were virtually immortal. Severe injury or iron could cause death but, outside of war, it was a rarity.

Jareth knew that he could grant her wish, in a manner of speaking. But Sarah had saved his life and she deserved better than to be insulted by the offer of an illusion. She would refuse it, in any case. Sarah had always preferred reality to her dreams, even when that reality was harsh.

He had just decided that he should knock on her bedroom door when it opened and Sarah came back into the living area. Her eyes were reddened and she seemed subdued, but gave no other outward sign that she was distressed.

Jareth rose as she entered the room. "I would like to express my condolences on the loss of your family. Your brother was a good-natured child and I remember him fondly."

"You remember Toby?" She seemed astonished.

"Of course." Jareth hesitated. "There are not so many wished away to me now. There are very few left in your world who believe in goblins, or their king."

Sarah looked at him silently for a long moment and he was puzzled when he saw her eyes fill with tears again. She blinked them back quickly.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll shower and go to bed," she said. "Feel free to listen to the stereo or read if you want." She gestured toward the books on the shelves by the stereo.

Jareth's eyes followed her movements. He needed to change the subject quickly. These conversations of death and loss were painful to her.

"Perhaps I shall read. Are there any of these books that you recommend?" he asked.

Sarah walked over and looked at the tiny collection of books. She tilted her head and then plucked one from the shelves and held it out to him.

"This is one of my favorites," she said. "It's about a mystery that's never been solved. The book is fiction, but the mystery is real and the king involved was real."

He arched an eyebrow and took the book from her, examining the cover. "The Daughter of Time," he read aloud.

"It's about a police inspector who's recuperating in the hospital. He's bored and to pass the time, he begins to research the mystery behind the Princes in the Tower and whether Richard III killed them or not." She paused and looked at Jareth thoughtfully. "You might have some insight into Richard since you're a king, too."

Jareth snorted. "There is no mystery, I have read Shakespeare's play." He turned the book over in his hands. "Other than the title of king, I doubt I have anything in common with Richard III."

"You've read Shakespeare?" Her eyebrows shot up.

"I am not completely illiterate," Jareth said with a faint smile. "Richard III was an evil tyrant who had his nephews murdered in order to usurp the throne."

Sarah smiled. "You seem terribly certain of yourself. Read the book and when you're finished, we'll talk about it again."

Jareth opened the book and glanced inside at the proverb there. 'Truth is the daughter of time.' He shrugged. "I have already told you that I know the facts of the story, but if you recommend the book, I shall read a few pages."

--------------------------------   


Sarah sighed as she leaned back and allowed the hot water to rinse the last of the shampoo from her hair, and she finally let her thoughts wander.

If she'd thought it was difficult to figure Jareth out before, she certainly didn't know what to think after his behavior tonight. She'd been braced for scornful comments after revealing that she'd had a crush on him and yet he hadn't teased her at all. Was this the same man who had been so hostile when he'd first arrived?

'Well, how would you have acted toward _him_ if you'd awakened to find yourself in the Underground?' she thought. She shrugged slightly. She hadn't been kidding when she said she probably would have thrown a screaming fit. All in all, she guessed that Jareth had behaved better than she would have done in his position.

He'd surprised her again with his question about her wish. On some level, she had known that he couldn't grant it, but there had been a moment when she'd looked over at him and he had seemed so confident, and she had begun to hope... Her eyes filled with tears and she stopped that thought. There was no point in dwelling on it. 

She gave herself a hard mental shake. She had to stop being so emotional. She knew that the past couple of days had been stressful, but they had worn on her more than she'd realized. She had even gotten tears in her eyes when Jareth had talked about there being so few believers in this world. Why did the thought of Jareth being forgotten cause her to feel such sadness?

--------------------------------   


After Sarah had retired for the evening, Jareth had intended to only skim through the book she'd selected for him. But as he read, he had been drawn into the mystery surrounding Richard III and ended up reading late into the night. The story itself was written well enough, Jareth supposed, but he quickly began skipping past the pages involving the fictitious detective's arduous hospital stay and eccentric friends. Jareth preferred to concentrate solely on the sections regarding the English king.

When Jareth finished the book, he was incensed. With no qualms over the late hour, he knocked firmly on Sarah's door. After a few minutes, the door opened and Sarah stood blinking sleepily at him. Her hair was mussed and she was fumbling with the belt on her robe.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a worried tone. "Are you sick?"

"Are these allegations true?" Jareth asked abruptly, holding the book up.

"Haven't you been to bed yet?" Sarah asked, surprised. "It's after 3:00 a.m."

"Are the allegations presented by this author true?" Jareth repeated.

Sarah looked from the book to Jareth.

"You want to talk about this _now_?" she asked incredulously. "Can't this wait until the morning?"

"You said that we would discuss the book when I had finished reading," Jareth said firmly. "I am finished reading."

"I meant tomorrow or the next day. Not in the middle of the night," Sarah said.

Jareth's eyes narrowed and Sarah threw up her hands. "Okay, okay, you're right, I said it. I just didn't realize that you were a speed reader," she grumbled. "If we're going to have this discussion, I need caffeine."

Sarah went into the kitchen and Jareth followed her.

"You still haven't told me if..." Jareth began.

Sarah turned to face him with a scowl. "Not until I have caffeine," she interrupted. "If you're going to wake me up in the middle of the night to talk about a man who's been dead for over 500 years, you can at least wait until I've made a cup of tea."

"Put the water into that box," Jareth said, pointing to the microwave. "It heats it much faster."

Sarah huffed out a surprised laugh. "You've been paying attention." She shrugged and filled two mugs with water and pressed the start button on the microwave.

She yawned and then shook her head as she watched Jareth pacing impatiently in front of the sofa.

"You don't like to wait, do you?" she asked.

"I am a king. I am unaccustomed to being made to wait by anyone." Jareth placed his hands on his hips.

Sarah frowned as she realized that his imperious tone was back. What was going on?

The microwave shut off and Sarah quickly made tea. She placed Jareth's mug on the coffee table. As she sat on the sofa, she said, "It sounds like the book caused you to question whether or not you really knew the facts of the story."

"This is a work of fiction," Jareth said. "But are the facts presented within this book regarding King Richard true?"

Sarah sighed. "The biggest problem with anything to do with Richard III is that there are so few surviving contemporary records. The reason I first became interested in the whole thing was because I did a paper on the Princes in the Tower for a college history class. The more research I did, the more I realized that history had condemned Richard without any proof at all.

"All the records that have been used to "prove" that he killed the princes were written long after Richard's death and, in most cases, were written by people who were loyal to Henry Tudor, the man who took the throne after killing Richard in battle. But you know that now. You read the book."

"The book claims that King Richard passed laws that were helpful to his people," Jareth said. "Is that true?"

Sarah nodded. "Among other things, he was the first king to allow commoners to post bail when they were arrested. He was the first king who commanded that the laws be written in English rather than Latin so that all of his subjects could read them."

Jareth sat on the sofa next to her. "And no one has learned who actually murdered his nephews?"

Sarah shook her head. "No one even knows for certain that they _were_ murdered. They just vanished and were never seen again. Various sets of bones have been found over the years, but none of them have been proven to be the princes." 

Jareth rested his elbow on his knee and tapped a finger to his lips. "What do you think? Do you believe King Richard was guilty or innocent?"

Sarah hesitated. "History has lost too many records and rewritten the rest. A case can be made for either his guilt or his innocence. But I don't think he killed the princes. He had no reason. Parliament had already pronounced the boys illegitimate. They were no longer in line for the throne; they were no threat to him, so why kill them? But we'll never know the truth."

"The truth? The truth seems to be unimportant in this world," Jareth spat out and jumped up from the sofa. He began pacing again, clearly agitated. "The man was a good king who died bravely in battle while defending his crown and yet your history perpetuates slanderous lies against him."

"Why are you so mad?" Sarah asked, confused.

Jareth stopped abruptly and faced her. "Why did you believe that I transform children into goblins?" he demanded.

"Well, it's... It's in the story," Sarah stammered. "It says that the Goblin King takes the children to his castle and turns them into goblins."

"Just as history claims that King Richard was physically deformed? And yet he was not." Jareth's voice had turned dangerously silky. "Just as the play claims he died calling for a horse when in truth he _refused_ the offer of a horse because his men wanted him to use it to escape the battle?"

"History is written by the victors," Sarah said quietly. "It's not right, but it's the way of things."

"I have encountered no victor." He paused and his eyes flashed cold fire. "At least, not until _you_," he spat out, "and I had already been relegated to the role of evil villain."

Sarah's temper began to stir. She could see that he was upset, but she was really getting tired of him taking it out on her.

"What about the people who run the Labyrinth and fail?" Sarah asked sharply. "They would be the most likely source of the story."

"I have never once stated that I would change any child into a goblin." Jareth threw up a hand dismissively.

"Maybe not, but it's a logical assumption." Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "How are we supposed to know differently?"

"I do not know, Sarah," Jareth's voice dripped sarcasm. "Perhaps you could have asked."

Sarah's eye narrowed and she quickly stood to face him. "And you would have answered? I don't think so. You were having too much fun being condescending and intimidating. It's no wonder we think you're a villain. You've set yourself up for it."

"And you would have preferred... what? A _helpful_ Goblin King? No, you got exactly what you expected. Exactly what you wanted." Jareth's voice was clipped. "I merely live up to _your_ expectations."

"It goes way past that. You enjoy it. You enjoy playing games with people's lives." At that Sarah frowned suddenly and her voice softened. "You do enjoy it, don't you? And you can't help it."

Jareth looked at her, obviously suspicious of her change in tone. "What are you talking about?"

"I keep trying to judge you by the wrong standards. Human standards. But you're not human..." her voice trailed off thoughtfully. "And those standards just don't apply to you."

"We were discussing King Richard, not me," Jareth snapped.

"Were we?" she asked. "I think we've been talking about you all along."

"That is untrue. What have I to do with a mortal king?" he asked contemptuously.

"You mean besides being labeled a monster when you don't deserve it? _That's_ what's really made you so angry. It wasn't that Richard was misjudged, it's because _you've_ been misjudged." She blinked in sudden understanding. "You got your feelings hurt."

"I merely dislike being accused of something that I have not done." His voice turned cool.

She shook her head. "No, you said it yourself earlier tonight. You try to be a good king. But no matter how hard you try, this world only sees a man who changes children into goblins, someone used to scare little kids into behaving. No matter how well you treat your subjects, no matter how hard you try to take care of them, there's no way for you to escape the role we've placed you in." She gave a heavy sigh. "And I bought into it. I'm sorry, Jareth."

He froze.

"I neither need nor want your pity," he snarled. "And your attempt at analyzing my personality and motives has failed miserably. You were quite correct--you cannot judge me by human standards. The fae have no need of this world. No need of you."

He could protest all he wanted, Sarah thought. It didn't matter. She knew that she'd finally gotten a glimpse of the real Jareth. And while he was fae and therefore completely alien to her in some ways, in others he seemed very, very human.

She reached out and placed her hand on his arm lightly. He lifted an eyebrow and looked down on it, his face set in a mask of anger.

"I'm sorry," she persisted softly. "Will you forgive me?"

-------------------------------- 


	9. Common Ground

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine. 

Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.

Additional Author's Note: This chapter refers to "The Daughter of Time," written by Josephine Tey. If you enjoy historical mysteries, I highly recommend this book. It addresses an actual mystery as examined by fictional characters.  


--------------------------------   


Jareth was startled when Sarah asked for his forgiveness. But he was even more startled that she had placed her hand on his arm. He caught himself before he jerked away from her, reason overcoming his instinctive rage at being touched without permission.   


The fact that she was reaching out to him physically, even with this small gesture was promising and he forced his anger away.   


"Go to bed, Sarah," he said finally. "It is late, I should not have awakened you."   


"So, you won't forgive me," she said with a sigh. It wasn't a question.   


"We both believed a story that was untrue," he said carefully. "There is nothing to forgive."   


She looked at him doubtfully. "Are you sure?"   


"I am quite certain." He nodded firmly. "Go back to bed and we shall talk in the morning."   


She started to speak and then just nodded slightly. She took the mugs into the kitchen and placed them in the sink. She stopped at her bedroom door and turned back to him.   


"Goodnight, Jareth," she said softly.   


He inclined his head, and she went into her bedroom and closed the door.   


As he changed into his sleeping attire, Jareth thought back over the book and the effect that it had on him. While he refused to acknowledge to Sarah that she had been correct in some of her assumptions, a great deal of his agitation over King Richard's historic portrayal was caused by his own unjust depiction.   


Why anyone would believe that he would change children into goblins was unfathomable. No one outside of his family had any comprehension of how truly difficult it was to rule those stubborn and dim-witted creatures. He shuddered as he thought of his subjects running amok and the amount of damage that they could do when unsupervised. While they could be taught simple tasks, usually anything requiring more depth of thought than whether or not to eat a meal was beyond their capabilities.   


He could only hope that the Labyrinth was protecting his castle. By the time he was able to return to the Underground, he feared that it would be reduced to a pile of smoldering rubble.   


--------------------------------   


When Sarah woke the next morning, she dressed quickly, and then quietly went into the living room. As she slipped past Jareth's bed on her way to the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of tousled blond hair peeking out from the top of the blanket and quickly averted her eyes. She'd already been caught ogling him when he first arrived and she certainly didn't want him to wake up and find her admiring him.   


After she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she ran a comb through her hair and decided that she needed to stay busy but still be quiet. She wanted to let Jareth sleep as long as possible. He'd had a late night and she wasn't fully convinced that he was completely over the effects of the iron poisoning.   


She settled on finishing putting away the supplies and doing the laundry. They were beginning to run low on clean towels. She went into the storage room and closed the door. She didn't think that the washing machine would be so loud as to wake Jareth.   


After she got the laundry started, she began sorting through the bags and stocking the shelves. She found a sack containing three bottles of wine, all bearing red bows, and she remembered Jean's note.   


_I thought if I got you drunk, you'd consider it._   


Jean must have stopped by the apartment while Jareth was there alone. Jean obviously hadn't told Jareth about the paintings or he would have said something about them sooner than he did. Sarah wondered what they _had_ talked about.   
  
The fact that Jareth hadn't raked her over the coals about those paintings was still confusing to her. That had demonstrated a level of compassion that she hadn't seen in him before. Apparently, she had misjudged him in so many ways. He had even offered his condolences when she'd told him about her family.

Her family... Oh god, it was four years ago today... Nonono, she wasn't going to think about that. She would think about something else. Focus on putting up the supplies. The canned vegetables went on _this_ shelf and the dried pasta went on _that_ shelf. She forced herself to concentrate on the stocking the shelves, arranging things as she went.

The washing machine shut off and as she reached out to open the lid, her eyes were drawn to a box pushed between the washer and dryer. She knew what was in there. All she'd have to do is open the box...

The storage room door swung open and Sarah jumped, jerking her head up.

"Good morning," Jareth said. He stepped into the room and looked around. "I would have helped you put these things away."

She smiled faintly as she took in his appearance. A charcoal gray Hugo Boss suit this morning, she noted. They were in the middle of nowhere and he looked like he'd stepped out of the pages of GQ.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked. 

Jareth shook his head and watched curiously as she removed the wet towels from the washing machine, loaded them into the dryer and set the timer. 

At his quizzical look, she said, "It's like a blow dryer for clothes."

"Ah," he nodded his understanding. He gestured toward the living room before changing the subject. "I have rebuilt the fire, but I have used the last of the wood."

"Yeah, we're going to have to bring in more wood. Why don't we have breakfast first and then we'll brave the elements," she suggested.

--------------------------------   


At breakfast, Sarah looked at the suit Jareth was wearing and frowned thoughtfully. He glanced up from his scrambled eggs and caught her expression.

"What is wrong?" he asked. He looked down at his suit with a puzzled air.

"You've only got sneakers and you don't have a heavy coat. You're going to get drenched. And that suit wasn't made for going out into the snow."

"Do we have an alternative?"

She sighed. "No, I guess not. Well, if you're finished, we might as well bundle up and get this over with. "

--------------------------------   


When they opened the back door, they found that snow had drifted against the door, causing them to have to push against it several times to clear the snow away from the wooden steps enough that they could fully open the door. The shock of the frigid air stole the breath from their lungs for a moment.

Sarah went first, carefully negotiating the steps. It was barely snowing, flakes lazily drifting down from a leaden sky.

With their first footstep, they both sank to their calves. Sarah grimly started toward the shed, moving slowly through the heavy snow. She had encountered deep snow before and quickly fell into the awkward walk necessary to maneuver under the conditions.

She looked back at Jareth; he was struggling along in a kind of overly exaggerated shuffle. One foot was pulled free and placed down before the other foot was lifted. She knew that she was moving in the much the same fashion, but seeing the normally graceful Goblin King lumbering through the snow suddenly struck her as hilarious.

Sarah couldn't help it, she started laughing.

"What is so amusing?" Jareth called out, moving steadily toward her.

With each step he took, her hilarity rose. She bent over, resting her hands on her thighs as she watched him, and howled with laughter.

"You're... You're..." she gasped. "You're waddling like a duck."

He shot her a disgusted look. "You have the audacity to laugh at me? You look no different when _you_ walk through this... this _mess_."

Sarah straightened, still laughing as Jareth approached. His eyes were suddenly gleaming and when he drew even with her, he reached out casually. Her own eyes widened, but she didn't have time to react. For a split second, his gloved hand rested lightly just below her throat. Then, with a disconcertingly gentle smile, he gave her a firm shove.

Her shrieks of laughter abruptly became a howl of protest. With her legs mired in the snow, Sarah was caught completely off balance. She teetered for a moment, her arms flailing wildly before she finally lost her battle with gravity and fell backward into the soft snow.

Jareth looked down at her with a smirk. "Now _that_ was amusing."

She came up sputtering and brushing snow off her face, and out of her ears and nose. She shook her head and snow flew from her hair in all directions.

"Oh, you'll pay for that," she gasped.

"I believe I have already paid," Jareth said archly. "Consider it reimbursement for the repairs to the bridge," he called out over his shoulder.

He made it to the shed and waited.

"Well?" he said imperiously. "You have the key."

Sarah's eyes narrowed until she saw his mouth twist into a quickly smothered smile. She looked down and saw snow clinging to her everywhere. She realized that she must look like the snowman she had tried to describe to him and she chuckled. She lifted her eyes to his and, as she gave in to full-throated laughter, he began to grin.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," she said, knocking snow off her coat, "because you won't get another free shot."

"I shall remember that," he laughed.

Still smiling, she struggled to the shed and opened the lock. Jareth looked at the firewood stacked neatly along the left side of the shed's interior and then gestured to boxes stacked along the opposite wall.

"What do those contain?" he asked.

"Decorations, mainly," Sarah said. "My grandmother loved Christmas. She'd decorate every room in her house. After she passed away, my grandfather couldn't bear to part with any of it and I just haven't gotten around to going through it."

Jareth nodded and began picking up wood.

"Hey, wait a minute," Sarah said. She reached up for an old plastic snow sled that was hanging from a hook on the wall. A long nylon cord was looped through holes on one end. She placed it on the ground. "We can put the wood on this and then just drag it back."

They quickly began loading wood onto the sled. When the sled was full, they carefully returned to the cabin, Jareth pulling the sled and Sarah pushing it. At the cabin, they carried the wood inside and stacked it in the wood box.

It took two more trips before the wood box was full. Although they had managed to trample down a path between the cabin and the shed, by the time they brought the last load of firewood into the cabin, Sarah and Jareth were both tired from struggling through the snow.

After a change of clothes, they settled in front of the fire to play backgammon. It quickly became apparent that Sarah's attention wasn't on the game.

"If you are not going to pay attention, there is no point in playing," Jareth chided after she fumbled an easy move. 

Sarah gave him an apologetic smile. "I think I'm just a little tired."

"You should lie down for a bit," Jareth suggested. "We will call this game default and when you awake, you will be refreshed and will present more of a challenge."

"Your concern is overwhelming," Sarah said dryly.

"I only meant..." he began.

"I know what you meant. I think." Sarah smiled. "But you're right. I will take a nap. Think you can occupy yourself for a little bit?"

His eyebrows rose. "I am not--" he began.

"--a child," she finished with a grin. She turned away and started toward her bedroom. "Believe me," she said under her breath, "I've noticed."

--------------------------------   
  
When Sarah woke from her nap, she looked over at the clock and then rubbed her eyes and looked again. She had slept for over three hours.

When she went into the living room, Jareth was reading.

"Why did you let me sleep so long?" she asked.

"I did not know that you wished me to awaken you," he replied, setting the book aside.

"I would have set the alarm if I'd thought I'd sleep so late. Did you have lunch?"

"I was not hungry," he said. His expression brightened and he gestured toward the backgammon board. "I have been waiting so that we might play again." 

He definitely wasn't a child, she thought with a bemused shake of her head. But he was still a big kid in some ways.

--------------------------------   


They played the rest of the afternoon away and ended up even, each of them winning two games.

After a quick dinner of sandwiches and chips, Sarah made tea and they went into the living room. Jareth sat on the sofa and Sarah took her usual place, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table.

Jareth said, "I shall ask the first of my questions now."

Sarah nodded and waited.  


"Tell me of your last romantic involvement. Who was he?"

She looked down. "It's a really long, boring story." 

Jareth lifted an eyebrow and gestured around. "It seems that I have no prior engagement. I have time to listen."

Sarah hesitated and then said, "After my family died, I was lost. My friends..." Sarah's voice trailed off and she gave a deep sigh. "My friends didn't know how to act around me. It was as if they thought death was contagious. They were so uncomfortable that they stopped hanging out with me. They didn't know what to say or how to act and so it was easier just to avoid me. And I suddenly had all these responsibilities. I didn't have the first clue about how to settle an estate, so when Mark showed up and offered his help, I was just so grateful."   


"Mark?" Jareth asked.   


"Mark Colley," she said. "He was a friend of a friend of a friend. I knew him in a casual sort of way. He was very attractive, very charming, and he planned on being a lawyer, so he knew something about the laws regarding wills." She hesitated. "I was completely alone; I was almost out of my mind with grief. I was barely eating or sleeping and I was so damn tired. It was easier to let him take care of things." She gave a bitter laugh. "I trusted him."   


"I don't think we ever actually went out on a date. He was just suddenly always there and before I knew it, he'd asked me to marry him and I'd said yes." She shook her head slightly and looked away from Jareth.   


Ah, Jareth thought, that was the blond man in the photographs at Sarah's apartment. The one with the possessive attitude.   


"And yet you did not marry. Why?" Jareth said curiously.   


"No, we didn't get married," Sarah said, ducking her head. "I didn't love him and I didn't really want to marry him."   


"Then why did you agree?" Jareth prompted.   


"Because I wanted _someone_ to love me," Sarah admitted softly. "My family was gone, my friends were gone. I just didn't want to be alone anymore."   


She turned her head and stared into the firelight. "The closer it got to the wedding date, the more I knew that I couldn't go through with it. And on top of everything else, Mark and I had started arguing over the money."   


She looked at Jareth. "When my family died, I inherited everything. It wasn't a fortune, by any means, but it was still a respectable amount of money."   


"Why did you argue?" Jareth asked.   


"Mark wanted to use it to buy new cars, take expensive trips, things like that. I wanted to keep it in savings and use it to pay for my education and for the taxes on this cabin. One day, I just put my foot down and told him that the money was going to stay in the bank. When Mark realized that I was serious, that I wasn't going to spend the money the way that he wanted, he told me that he'd never loved me at all. That he'd only wanted me because of the money."   


She bit her lip and glanced away.   


"Perhaps he only said those things to hurt you," Jareth said quietly. "He wanted to strike out at you and knew that his words would be the most effective weapon."   


"No," she said, looking back at him, "I started asking around about Mark and I found out that he'd lied about his background. He didn't come from a wealthy family; he wasn't even going to law school. He made a career out of living off of women. He'd find a woman with money and he'd make himself over to be whatever she needed him to be. In exchange, he expected her to... to buy him things."   


Sarah turned toward the fire. "I felt like such a fool. And the worst part of it was that, even though I didn't love him, it still hurt that he'd never wanted me." She lowered her head. "That's pretty stupid, huh? If I didn't love him, then it shouldn't matter that he was just using me."   


"No, it shouldn't," Jareth said quietly.   


Her head shot up and she turned back to him. "Well, I didn't expect that you would understand." Her voice had become cool.   


"Why would you think that?" Jareth asked, surprised. He had been trying to reassure her. Had he offended her in some way?   


"Well, because..." her voice trailed off and she lifted her eyes to his defiantly. "Because of all your "acquaintances." You certainly haven't been alone."   


"No," he said coldly, "I have not been alone."   


He watched as her defiance faded, leaving weariness in its place. "See? I knew you wouldn't understand."   


Sarah rose to her knees. "I'm going to make more tea. I'll get you some, too." She reached out to pick up his mug and he grasped her by the wrist. She looked at him in surprise.   


He was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke.   


"Through the Labyrinth I am able to control vast stores of magic. With that power, my kingdom is virtually unassailable, my place in the Seelie Court is completely assured."   


Sarah looked confused at the turn in the conversation, but she stilled, listening to him.   


"Most of the fae are able to produce only illusions. Glamours and trickery. They can cast a spell that would cause you to believe, in every way, that this cup of tea has suddenly become a flower. But in reality, it is still merely a cup of tea. I, however, can actually transform it into a flower.   


"In a race of people who prize beauty, I am considered very beautiful and my skills as a lover are quite well known." His tone became increasingly remote. "I am in great demand as an escort to the various social functions. After all, what woman wouldn't want a suitor who could provide them with _whatever_ they might desire?"

--------------------------------   


Anger swept through Sarah. Why was he bragging? She had just told him about one of the most humiliating times in her life and in return he _boasted_ about his abilities and how popular he was?   


"Then why aren't you already married?" Sarah asked, her voice sharp. She jerked her wrist out of his hand. "It sounds like you've got your pick of women. What's the problem? Haven't you found one who lives up to your standards?"   


Jareth didn't reply; he just looked into her eyes as if he was searching for something--something he obviously didn't find, because he frowned slightly and shook his head.   


When he said nothing further, Sarah snatched up the mugs and stalked into the kitchen. She rinsed the mugs out and refilled them with water. Placing them in the microwave, she set the timer with vicious little punches of the buttons.   


God, Jareth was such a jerk. Why didn't he just marry one of those women? Why was he stuck here with her?

At that, she suddenly narrowed her eyes. Hadn't she already asked Jareth why he didn't marry one of those fae women? She'd asked him that question when he'd first arrived, but she'd been in such shock at the time that she hadn't listened as closely as she should. What was it he'd said? Something about his kingdom.   


_"The Goblin Kingdom is not prestigious enough to satisfy any of the other fae royalty."_   


Well, that didn't make any sense, she thought, her eyes going wide. If he had all those _other_ things going for him, then what did it matter if his kingdom was a little shabby around the edges? It certainly didn't stop all those women from...   


From what? Sleeping with him because he was good in bed? Treating him like a pretty trophy at social events? Asking him to conjure up lavish presents?   


Those women thought that Jareth was good enough for all those things.   


But not good enough to marry.   


Sarah sighed. Why couldn't Jareth have just told her that? 

Because he's a man and they rarely just come right out and say anything about their emotions. And because, on top of that, he's a _fae_ male. Throw in his natural tendency to talk in riddles and it was a miracle that they were even able to hold a conversation.   


Deep in thought, she took the mugs from the microwave and prepared tea. Jareth had been trying to tell her that he understood what it was like to be used without actually _telling_ her that he understood. How typically male.   


When she went back to the living room, she didn't sit on the floor, she sat next to Jareth on the sofa. She tilted her head and considered the best way to try to approach him about the subject.  


"Did you love any of them?" she asked tentatively.  


"To whom are you referring, Sarah?" he drawled.   


She met his eyes and winced inwardly. He'd been willing to open up for just a moment and she'd completely misunderstood. Her anger had caused him to close himself off. She'd missed her opportunity.  


Sarah decided to try anyway. "The women in the sketches. Did you love any of them?" 

"And this is of concern to you for what reason?" His arrogant tone was firmly in place.   


"Well," she said slowly, "technically, you are my fiancé. I guess I'm curious."   


"Love, in the sense that you define it, does not exist, Sarah. It is merely a pretense used by those who think they must justify having a sexual partner," he said flatly.   


She shook her head. "I don't believe that. There's more to love than just lust."   


He shrugged. "Believe what you will."   


"You haven't answered my question," she said.   


"No, I have not," he said with narrowed eyes.   


"And you're not going to?" she asked with dawning understanding.   


He smiled coldly. "That is correct."   


"I'm sorry I said that you wouldn't understand," she said softly. "I missed a cue. But I'm learning."   


"Learning?" he repeated, puzzled.   


"About you."   


He locked eyes with her. "Are you?" He lifted an eyebrow.   


"Slowly," she admitted. "Maybe very slowly. But, yeah, I'm learning."   


He gave a delicate snort. "It will take you far longer than a few days to learn about me."

"Well, it wouldn't be so difficult if you wouldn't fight me every step of the way," she said, slightly exasperated. "I could use one of my questions and _make_ you answer."

"Then do so," his voice went flat.

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, slowly shaking her head. "No."

He arched an eyebrow. "Not so curious as to waste a question?" His tone was mocking.

"It wouldn't be right to force you tell me about something that you obviously don't want to talk about," she said slowly.

Jareth looked surprised.

Sarah stood. "I forfeit my questions tonight. I'm going to bed."

She turned away and then froze as he spoke.

"I have one question still to ask," he said.

She turned her head toward him. "Then ask it." She sounded exhausted.

"Do you truly want to learn about me?" Jareth asked softly.

A frown creased her brow for a brief moment as she considered the question and then it cleared. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I do."

She met his eyes. "Goodnight."

At that, she turned and went into her bedroom and shut the door.

--------------------------------   


Sarah had tried to sleep, but had only ended up tossing and turning for hours. No matter what position she tried, she couldn't get comfortable. Finally she gave up. She knew what she wanted to do. 

She got up and put on her robe, opening her bedroom door quietly. She stopped at the foot of Jareth's bed and listened for a moment to his even breathing. When she was certain that he was deeply asleep, she continued on through the kitchen and into the storage room.

She pulled the door closed behind her and flipped on the light. She quickly pulled out the box between the washing machine and dryer. There, among old vacation souvenirs and keepsakes, was a photo album.

Sarah placed the photo album on the top of the dryer and opened it slowly. She smiled as the first picture of her family came into view. With a hitching sigh, she traced her fingers over Toby's picture and tears filled her eyes.

--------------------------------   


Jareth woke when Sarah came out of her bedroom. He had assumed that she was going into the bathroom. But when she stopped at the end of his bed, he began to wonder what she was doing. He kept his breathing rhythmic, feigning sleep and waited. After a few moments, he heard her move away and then the storeroom door opened and closed.

What could she be doing in there so late? When the minutes ticked by and she hadn't returned, his curiosity demanded satisfaction. 

He rose and went through the darkened kitchen to the closed storeroom door. He quietly opened it and looked inside. Sarah was standing at the clothes dryer with her back to him, her head bent over something. Was she doing more laundry? If so, why was she tending to it in the middle of the night?

He drew in a breath to speak to her when he realized that she was shaking.

"Sarah?" he said softly, suddenly concerned.

She stiffened at the sound of his voice, but didn't turn to face him.

"Go back to bed, Jareth," she said. Her voice was thick with tears. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"What is wrong?" he demanded.

Her shoulders suddenly sagged. "Nothing's wrong," she said dully. "Just... Just go back to bed."

She was obviously lying and he disliked having anyone lie to him. He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Her head bowed and she attempted to shrug his hand away. "This doesn't concern you," she said harshly.

His eyebrows shot up at her tone. He tilted his head and looked past her. Lying on top of the dryer was an open photograph album filled with pictures of Sarah's family. Understanding swept through him. He'd known that this had been the anniversary of their deaths, but other than her response to his earlier question, she hadn't mentioned it all day. He had thought she was trying to ignore it and so he had not broached the subject.

"Oh, Sarah," he murmured. "You needn't hide this from me."

She remained silent for so long that he began to wonder if she had heard him. Finally, she spoke.

"I know I forfeited my questions, but I need to know something," she said softly. "It's important."

"All right," he said. She had not turned toward him.

"If I had lost... If he had stayed with you, would Toby still be alive?" Her voice was a broken whisper.  
  
"I cannot answer that, I am not a seer." He hesitated. "I can tell you what I believe, however, if you wish to hear it."   


She nodded with a jerky motion.   


"I believe it is possible that the time of a mortal's death is preordained," he said quietly. "Over the years, I have seen many who should have died due to injury or illness and yet they did not. I have seen just as many who should have survived and still they died."   


"Do you know who he would have lived with?" she asked plaintively. "Do you pick out families in advance?"

For a split second, Jareth considered deceiving her. He wasn't certain how she would take the truth.

"I had thought to keep him with me," he said softly. "I thought he would make a fine heir."

She turned toward him at that. Tears slipped slowly down her cheeks and her reddened eyes met his.

"Then he would still be alive," she choked out. "Because you wouldn't have let anything happen to him."

At that, she covered her face with her hands and began to sob.

Jareth was momentarily bewildered. He never knew what to do when confronted with a weeping female. He usually encountered them when he was called upon to take a child that has been wished away. The only thing of which he was certain was that, in this case, his customary aloof response would be completely inappropriate.

After only a brief hesitation, he reached out and pulled Sarah into his arms. She resisted for a moment and then relaxed against him, burying her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. Her arms slipped around his waist and he tightened his hold on her, drawing her closer.

He began to slowly sway back and forth in a rocking motion and he made shushing sounds, as if he were comforting a child. Sarah clung to him and cried until finally, her sobs trailed away into hiccupping sighs and then faded to silence.

--------------------------------   


Sarah didn't know how long Jareth held her. Long enough that she managed to cry out the worst of her pain and frustration. Long enough that exhaustion began to creep over her. She drew in a shuddering breath and lifted her head to thank him at the same moment that Jareth bent his head to look into her eyes.

Sarah froze as she realized that his mouth was scant millimeters from her own. She could feel his breath against her face and she was suddenly and sharply aware that her arms were wrapped around his waist and that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Later, she would try to remember which of them moved first. But right now, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that his lips were warm and soft against hers and he was kissing her gently. All that mattered was the silken feel of his skin under her hands as they slid up to rest on his shoulders.

All that mattered was that she was kissing him back.

--------------------------------   



	10. The Wager

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine. 

Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.

Additional Author's Note: This chapter contains conversation that is of an adult nature. If you're underage, please go elsewhere.

--------------------------------   


The kiss lasted only a few seconds before Sarah's mind began asking her frantically just what the hell she thought she was doing? She was kissing _Jareth_.

She pulled away and ducked her head, blushing furiously.

"I'm, uh, I'm really tired and I'm going to bed now," Sarah said softly. Without looking at him, she turned and walked away. At the door of the storeroom, she paused briefly. She glanced back at him, refusing to make eye contact.

"Thanks for..." Her voice trailed off and she simply turned and left him standing there.

Once inside her bedroom, she sat on the edge of her bed and brought her fingertips to trace lightly over her lips. It hadn't been a passionate kiss, but it had been sweet and almost...caring.

Sarah recalled the playful look in Jareth's eyes as he had pushed her over into the snow. The soft tones in his voice as he told her that she didn't have to hide from him. How he'd held her as she'd cried. Was it possible that he might actually _care_ for her?

Her eyes widened at the sudden warmth that spread through her at that thought.

"Oh, shit," she whispered. "Oh, shit, I am in so much trouble."

--------------------------------   


After Sarah had left the storeroom, Jareth had returned to his bed and lay there, silently berating himself. In retrospect, it had been the perfect opportunity. Sarah had been vulnerable. All that would have been necessary was to deepen the kiss, pick her up and carry her to bed. A few more kisses, some murmured words of reassurance, and she would have surrendered easily.

It disturbed him greatly that he hadn't even considered it. He'd concentrated totally on comforting her, not seducing her. In the face of her grief, he had lost his focus and he could not afford to do so.

He had been far too lax and he resolved to redouble his efforts. He had to return to the Underground. He had a kingdom to rule and subjects who needed his guidance.

Sentimentality was a luxury that he could not afford.

--------------------------------   


The next morning when Jareth came out of the bathroom, dressed and freshly showered, he was greeted by the sight of Sarah setting the small table.

"Breakfast is almost ready," she said, glancing up at him.

"Good morning," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine, thanks." She tilted her head toward the cabin's front door. "It's snowing hard again."

He nodded and smiled at her. Sarah smiled back tentatively, then went back into the kitchen, removing a pan from the oven.

Jareth went to her side, standing close to her. "What are these?" He gestured toward the pan.

Sarah tried to step away, but she was caught between the counter at her back and Jareth in front of her. "Um, muffins," she said, refusing to look at him. "Blueberry muffins."

"They smell wonderful," he said. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes.

She jumped slightly and her eyes flew up to meet his for a moment before she pressed against the counter and slipped around him, barely brushing against him.

"Is something wrong, Sarah?" he asked, careful to keep his tone merely quizzical.

"N... No," she stammered. "I just, um, need to get a plate to put these on."

He watched as she selected a plate and, as she removed the muffins from their pan, he retook his earlier position. She placed the pan in the sink and lifted the plate.

"Excuse me," she said pointedly and took a half step forward, almost bumping into him.

He smiled and stepped back, allowing her access to the dining table.

She set the plate on the table and moved to sit down. Jareth was behind her in an instant, holding her chair. 

"Uh, thank you," she said, swallowing hard. "Are you hungry this morning?"

As he pushed the chair under her, he leaned down.

"I'm starving," he purred into her ear.

Sarah froze for a moment. Her breath hitched in her throat and then he watched her lift her head in a clearly defiant gesture.

"Well, then, you'd better eat your breakfast," she admonished.

"Ah, If you insist," he said, allowing disappointment to creep into his tone as he took his seat. 

She blinked at him uncertainly and then lowered her head, concentrating on her food.

"What shall we do today?" he asked.

She suddenly looked surer of herself. "I have laundry to do. That's the last clean suit you have. And then I'm going to clean."

"Clean?" he asked, pausing as he broke a steaming muffin into pieces. "Clean what?"

"This place. Dust, sweep, mop, you know--_clean_."

He sighed. "You are determined to turn me into a servant."

She laughed softly and glanced at him. "No, you can sit on your royal behind if you want. You don't have to help. It won't take me very long."

"It will take less time if we do it together," he said firmly. "And then we can play." 

"All right," she agreed, nodding slightly.

--------------------------------   


After breakfast, Sarah gave Jareth a cloth and a can of Pledge. After a brief demonstration, he began cleaning the furniture. Sarah watched him for a moment, bemused. Who would have thought that she would ever see the Goblin King _dusting_? Sarah stifled a grin; she had the feeling that there were servants who would pay good money to see this.

She gathered up Jareth's suits and shirts and looked at the tags, cringing at the 'dry clean only' labels. She just hoped that she didn't ruin them by putting them in the washing machine.

Sarah picked up his extra pair of sneakers, while she was at it she'd wash those, too. Now, where was his underwear? She suddenly chuckled softly to herself. Why was it that so many of her mental conversations boiled down to the topic of his underwear?

'You know why,' her mind mocked.

Sarah sobered quickly and shook her head firmly. Definitely no thinking about that.

She had an idea and peeked into the bag that had contained the underwear she'd bought him. Sure enough, pairs of used socks and--ah ha! briefs!--were neatly tucked away alongside the clean pairs still in their wrappers.

Sarah picked up the entire bag; she'd just wash everything. 

She started the first load of laundry and then made short work of sweeping and mopping the cabin. She had just finished mopping when Jareth announced that everything was dusted.

"What must be done now?" he asked.

"I need to clean the bathroom and do the rest of the laundry. I guess that's it," Sarah replied.

"What do you wish me to do?"

Sarah smiled slightly. As much as the idea of the Goblin King scrubbing the toilet appealed to her, she just couldn't bring herself to suggest it. 

"You're in charge of making tea," she said. "It won't take me long to finish."

She showed Jareth how to work the microwave and went into the bathroom to clean. When she was done, she found that Jareth had set up the backgammon board and had a steaming cup of tea waiting for her.

Once again, they played most of the day away, with Sarah finishing the laundry between games. They took a short break for lunch and continued playing. Today, however, unlike previous days, cautious conversation began between the opponents that had nothing to do with the game. 

"How did your family come to rule the goblins?" Sarah asked.

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it was because of a woman. Originally, the goblin territory had no ruler and the goblins continually ventured into the neighboring kingdoms. The goblins had no sense of boundaries and they were simply coming and going as they pleased, causing a great deal of damage in the process. It was obvious to the High King that something must be done, but none of the fae wished to rule them."

"But how did your family end up with the job? And what does that have to do with a woman?"

Jareth hesitated for a moment. "Apparently my great-great grandfather and the High King were both pursuing the same woman..." his voice trailed off.

"Oh, I see," Sarah said. "In order to get rid of the competition, the High King made your great-great grandfather the King of the Goblins."

"Precisely." Jareth nodded.

Sarah grinned. "The High King must have been getting his tail kicked to pull a dirty trick like that."

"The woman involved did eventually become my great-great grandmother," Jareth said smugly.

"Oh, that's sweet," Sarah said with a pleased smile.

"Sweet?" Jareth echoed, puzzled.

"Well, yeah. She gave up being High Queen for your great-great grandfather. She obviously loved him very much."

For a split second, Jareth looked surprised and then appeared indifferent, giving a slight shrug, but it was too late, Sarah had already seen his reaction.

"Ah, that kind of puts a dent in your theory that love doesn't exist," she smiled.

"For all I know of the situation, Sarah, she simply chose the better lover," Jareth said sharply. "That is as likely the basis for selecting between the two as your belief."

She frowned at his change in tone and then sighed. For a few minutes, he'd been willing to talk and then he'd shut down again.

"Okay. Well, then, it's your turn. You should make your move," she said, gesturing toward the backgammon board.

For a moment, Jareth said nothing and when he replied, his voice had gone silky. "Yes, you are quite right about that."

She gave him a confused glance and found him openly looking her over. Her eyes widened and she shifted uneasily. Jareth merely smiled briefly before picking up the dice.

The rest of the game was played in silence.

--------------------------------   


Sarah won the last game by a small margin, winning one question to his two. She glanced toward the clock and saw that it was later than she had realized.

"What would you like for dinner?" she asked. "I'll make whatever you want, but I'm not particularly hungry."

"If you are not eating, then there is no point in preparing a separate meal," Jareth said.

She smiled slightly. "Well, I was thinking of having a cookie. Would you like one?" 

He nodded and Sarah grinned.

"I'll get them," she said. "I found them when I was putting up the supplies."

She went into the storage room and located the cookie tin. When she turned, she found Jareth standing directly behind her. She jumped slightly, startled.

"I didn't hear you," she said. She took a step back, trying to put a bit more distance between them but her back was against the shelves. 

"Why do I make you nervous when I am close to you?" Jareth asked, his eyes gleaming. 

For a moment, Sarah's heart stuttered in her chest until she realized that he wasn't asking in the capacity of one of his "complete answer and total honesty" questions.

"You don't make me nervous," Sarah protested, taking a small sidestep. Why was he looking at her like that?

He reached out and casually rested a hand on a shelf beside her head, effectively cutting off her escape.

"I believe that I do." He smiled. "Is it because I kissed you?"

"No," Sarah said firmly, disregarding the fluttering that had started in her stomach. "Like I said, you don't make me nervous."

Jareth ignored her words and tilted his head. "Or is it because you are attracted to me?"

Sarah forced a laugh. "You certainly think highly of yourself, don't you? I might have had a crush on you once, but I was a child then. I'm not anymore. I'm sorry if this comes as a blow to your ego, but I'm not attracted to you."

Jareth's smile widened and he leaned closer to look into her eyes. For a disorienting second, Sarah felt as if she were back in tunnels underneath the Labyrinth, his posture so closely mirrored that earlier encounter. 

"Now I know that you are lying," he said softly. "You may not want to acknowledge it, but I know the truth."

Sarah tensed. Oh, god, what truth? She wondered frantically. Was the Labyrinth communicating with him again? She took a deep breath and decided to brazen her way through. 

"Other than your amazing arrogance, just what makes you think that I'm attracted to you?"

"I can see the truth in the way you look at me," Jareth said, his voice soft. He reached out with his free hand and pushed her hair away from her face in caressing gesture. "From your actions when I am close to you."

Her eyes narrowed. "You mean like right _now_?" Sarah knocked his arm aside and pushed past him. She left the storeroom without a backward glance and with his delighted laughter in her ears.

She stopped at the kitchen counter and struggled to open the cookie tin, furious that her hands were shaking. She wrenched the top off the container and then went completely still in shock as Jareth stepped close behind her and slid his hands around her waist to smooth gently over her stomach. The impulse to simply lean back into him was almost overwhelming.

He didn't speak but lowered his head to brush his lips lightly over her throat. A tremor ran through her and she felt him smile against her skin. One hand moved higher to skim over her ribcage. That movement snapped Sarah out of her frozen state and she grasped his wrist firmly.

"You're about to lose a hand," she warned.

Jareth chuckled softly, and then sighed, his breath warm against her ear. "Ah, Sarah, I could seduce you without even touching you."

Her anger flared and she jerked away from him. She whirled to face him, eyes flashing.

"You're so sure of yourself," she spat out. "But you're so _wrong_." 

"Wrong?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "I am not wrong, and I am certain enough that I am willing to make a wager." His tone turned smug. "We will need more wood brought inside tomorrow. If I cannot seduce you without touching you, then I will bring in the firewood alone."

"Are you crazy? You expect me to _bet_ on something like that?" she asked incredulously.

"I will even be generous and impose no penalty when I prove to be correct." He lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "_If_ you are right and I am wrong, then you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. But we both know the truth of the matter, Sarah."

She planted her hands on her hips, eyes flashing. "Okay, that's it. You're on."

Sarah saw the triumphant look in his eyes, and inside her a shrill voice was suddenly shrieking that she was making a horrible mistake, but she ignored it with a toss of her head. She'd just sing the national anthem in her head or silently recite poetry in order to ignore him.

"You can't touch me at all," she clarified. "And you can't touch me _with_ anything."

"Agreed." He nodded once.

"You can't do anything vulgar." She pointedly looked him up and down.

A smile tugged at his mouth. "Of course not."

"And there has to be a time limit. I'll give you two minutes. I don't want this to drag on and on." Sarah gave her own smirk. "I wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself."

Jareth's smile widened. "Five minutes."

"Not a chance," she protested. "Three."

"Four," he countered quickly.

"Three and a half," she shot back.

He grinned. "Done."

"I'll get the kitchen timer," Sarah said, "We can use that as a stopwatch." She turned to look for it.

"Just a moment," Jareth said. "I have conditions of my own."

She turned back to him and frowned. "Such as?"

"You will sit on the sofa, not the floor," he said.

She shrugged. "Okay."

"During that time you will not speak or interrupt me, and if I tell you to close or open your eyes, you will do so without question or hesitation," Jareth continued.

She nodded. "All right. Is that it?"

"No, I have one last condition."

"Well?" Sarah crossed her arms.

"You will give me your word that you will not try to distract yourself by thinking of other things. You will pay complete attention to what I am saying." 

He had her trapped, she realized with a sickening jolt. If she didn't agree, it would be tantamount to admitting that he was right all along. If she did give her word, then she was honor bound to actually listen to what he said to her.

Jareth saw her falter and his eyes gleamed.

"Perhaps you would like to forfeit now?" he asked softly. "Why waste time that could be spent so much more... productively?"

She lifted her head high. "I agree to your terms. Let's just get this over with," she said flatly.

She found the timer and set it for three and a half minutes while Jareth waited, watching her with a slight smile playing on his lips.

He made a courtly gesture toward the sofa and she sat down as close to the arm of the sofa as possible. When he sat next to her, the alarm she was feeling wrenched up to new heights but she forced herself to appear unconcerned.

"Close your eyes," Jareth directed.

She looked at him suspiciously and then gave an abrupt nod. "Okay, but I start the timer as soon as I shut my eyes."

He inclined his head.

Sarah simultaneously closed her eyes and clicked the button on the timer.

She felt Jareth move closer and she stiffened.

When he spoke, his voice was low and intimate in her ear, and his breath warm against her cheek.

"Why do you fear me so? I gave you my word that I wouldn't touch you. You're perfectly safe. But, then, it isn't _me_ that you fear, is it? It is your reaction to me..."

There was a pause and she felt his weight shift. With her eyes closed, her senses seemed hyper alert and she felt the slightest stir of air against her mouth. In her mind's eye, she could see Jareth tracing his finger over her lips from a scant millimeter away.

"Haven't you wondered how it would feel if I kissed you with passion rather than sympathy? _I've_ wondered. Would you be shy and hesitant, refusing to part your lips until I coaxed you? Or would your mouth open eagerly under mine?"

Sarah was horrified at her instinctive urge to lick her lips.

"Don't you want me to touch you? I have imagined how soft your skin would be under my hands as I undress you. Do you have any idea of the things that I can do, Sarah? The different ways that I can please you? I know you've thought of it. What would you like first? My mouth on your body? The soft touch of my tongue against you as I discover your taste?"

As that vividly erotic image bloomed in her mind, she struggled to keep her breathing even, but failed.

His weight shifted, and his voice was once again murmuring wicked temptation into her ear.

"Or would you be too aroused to wait? Would you rather that I was inside you? Don't you want to know how that feels? _I_ want to know, Sarah. I want to be surrounded by you, moving hard and fast while you moan in pleasure. I want to hear you scream out my name. I want to hear you beg me for more."

Sarah clenched her fists and deliberately dug her fingernails into her palms. The sharp bite of pain did little to drive away the need that was beginning to dance through her veins.

"And then we shall start anew. Slower this time, savoring each kiss, each caress. We'll take the time to explore, to try different positions, to learn what we like best. Until we find just the right combination to satisfy you. I can be a patient man and there will be no need to rush."

Sarah fought to keep from trembling as a deep ache settled into her body, throbbing in time to her heartbeat.

"Are there things that you dream of doing, Sarah? Secret things? Things you've never admitted to anyone? I will not be shocked by anything you might want. And I will refuse you nothing."

His weight left the sofa. "Open your eyes," Jareth said.

Sarah reluctantly opened her eyes to find him kneeling on the floor before her, his hands resting lightly on either side of her legs. As she met his mismatched eyes, she knew what he was seeing--a woman with a flushed face, ragged breathing, and whose eyes were already clouded with desire. She felt drugged with it, the lassitude a counterpoint to her pounding heart.

"You would like to pretend that you feel nothing, but it is too late for that. We both know it isn't true. Even now your body readies itself for me. It aches, doesn't it? I can make it stop, Sarah. I can make that ache become pleasure over and over again." 

His gaze lowered to her lips and then back to her eyes.

"Lean forward." His tone was encouraging. "All you have to do is lean forward just a bit and everything I have told you will become a reality."

Sarah couldn't seem to think clearly. Oh god, he was so beautiful, and the things he said... Why was she pretending that she didn't want him? There was a reason, wasn't there? An important reason? But all she knew was that she'd never wanted anyone so much in her life. Her eyes focused on that delicious mouth. And all she had to do to have him was to just lean forward...

The sudden ringing of the timer caused her to jump and the piercing sound cut through the languid haze that had enveloped Sarah. Her eyes widened at the realization of what she had been about to do. Humiliation burned through her and she threw herself back on the sofa, drawing her legs up and swinging them around him. She was on her feet and walking away from him in an instant.

"Sarah," he said quietly.

She paused at the doorway to her bedroom and looked back at Jareth. He had risen and was watching her.

"Don't say anything," she said, her voice shaking. "Don't say one damn word. All you've proven is that I'm human and that I have weaknesses. You didn't win."

She turned away from him and opened the bedroom door, then stopped in mid-step as she heard his soft reply.

"Nor did I lose."

Without looking back, Sarah went into her bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her.

--------------------------------   


She shivered as she remembered his soft voice describing the things he'd wanted to do with her. Just last night she had wondered if he might care for her and tonight he had described making love with her.

But at that thought, her mind stumbled and a sick feeling suddenly gathering in her stomach. Jareth had never said that he cared for her--not last night, not a few minutes ago. There had been no mention of any emotion. All he had spoken of was physical gratification.

Lust.

So that was it.

His Majesty had so many "acquaintances" that he probably slept with a different woman every night. And now he was trapped here alone with her. She was his only alternative and he'd obviously decided to make the best of it.

Well, why wouldn't he? Sarah thought bitterly. He'd recognized that she was attracted to him. She'd been foolish to think that she had ever hidden it from him at all. He probably thought it would take very little effort to get her into bed, and Sarah knew that if she was completely honest, he'd been right. If that timer hadn't gone off, she had no doubt that she would have leaned forward and kissed Jareth. And it wouldn't have stopped at a kiss.

She'd almost given in; she'd almost ended up back in the Underground simply because Jareth wanted to have sex and had turned his attention to her because there wasn't anyone better available.

The worst of it though--the very worst of it--was the amount of pain that insight caused her. She blinked back tears as she realized that she'd _wanted_ Jareth to care for her. 

But he didn't.

'Tell the _whole_ truth,' her mind mocked. 'You didn't just want him to care about you. You wanted him to care about you as much as you...'

"Shut up," Sarah whispered viciously. "Just shut up."

Sarah lowered her head to her knees and rocked silently back and forth, trying to ignore the tears that slipped slowly down her face.

--------------------------------   


After Sarah left the room, Jareth had read for a bit, trying to take his mind off what had transpired earlier that evening. Finally, he tossed the book aside in irritation.

Why had Sarah resisted him? Why was she refusing to admit the obvious? She'd wanted him and yet she had chosen to deny them both. Her behavior was completely beyond his comprehension. He had once again offered her dreams and once again she had thrown them it back in his face. 

The only logical explanation was that he had been mistaken. He had made the assumption that Sarah's dreams would be the same as the women he was accustomed to knowing--libidinous adventures generously interspersed with extravagant presents. However, Sarah was different from those women in so many ways. Perhaps her dreams were different, too. 

But she had almost surrendered, he reflected thoughtfully. She had been so very close... 

He sighed to himself.

_You will bring her to us when you have--_

"What?" Jareth whispered, frustrated. "What is it you want me to do?"

He could not stay in this world forever, he needed to return to his home, to his duties and to his _life_.

He had to discover Sarah's dreams. He had observed her for days; the clues were there. He simply needed to put them into a logical order.

--------------------------------   


After she'd stopped crying, Sarah sat in the dark for hours, turning the events of the past few days over and over in her mind. How was she supposed to face Jareth in the morning? The more she thought about that, the angrier she became. Jareth was the one who should be sitting up worrying about how he was going to face _her_. He was the one who'd tried to use her.

She jumped up and opened her bedroom door, stepping into the living room even as that small voice in her mind tried to call her back, to warn her that there was something she hadn't completely thought out. 

The lights were turned off, leaving the living room illuminated only by the low-burning fireplace. Jareth had gone to bed and seemed to be asleep.

Sarah turned on the lamp. "Wake up," she said, her voice flat. "I want to talk to you."

"I am awake," Jareth answered softly. He sat up, the sheet and quilt sliding down to pool at his waist. He smiled slowly at her. "Did you change your mind?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Sarah snapped. "I just want to get a few things straight. Contrary to what you seem to think, I am not one of your _acquaintances_ and I don't appreciate being treated like one. Don't ever do that to me again. You had an itch and because I'm the only woman around for miles, you wanted to use me to scratch it."

She tilted her head and she smiled coldly. "The next time you have that particular urge, Jareth, take care of it yourself." 

She turned on her heel, intending to go back to her room when Jareth flung back the linens and rose from his bed.

"I treated you as I would any desirable woman with whom I share a mutual attraction," his tone was cold.

She clenched her teeth and whirled around to face him, but Jareth continued before she could speak.

"Yet you were stubbornly determined to lie to me, to deny that this attraction exists. If I caught you out in that lie, Sarah, you have no one to blame but yourself."

Jareth's voice suddenly had an underlying tone of weariness that caught her completely off guard and as she regarded him standing there, arms angrily crossed over his bare chest, she choked off her harsh reply.

He was right, she realized. She had lied about being attracted to him. And as for using her, which one of them was really using the other? The Labyrinth had promised to give her what she desired most.

Well, there he stood. 

Sarah bowed her head. Maybe she should admit to some of the truth. Not all of it--she wasn't ready to face that particular mortification--but some of the truth.

When she looked up, she wouldn't quite meet Jareth's eyes.

"Just because I find you attractive doesn't mean that we're going to sleep together. It was all just a game to you. Maybe that's the way it is for the fae, but that's not the way it is for me," she said quietly. "You didn't win, but you're right, you didn't really lose either. So, let's just call it even."

She started to turn back toward her bedroom when he spoke.

"You owe me two answers from earlier today," he said. "I will settle for one."

She steeled herself. 

"If there had been no wager," he asked quietly, "no "game," as you put it, how would you have reacted?"

Sarah met his eyes and looked at him silently for a long moment.

"I would have kissed you," she admitted softly and then dropped her eyes again, suddenly blushing. "How far it would have gone from there, I honestly don't know. But we'll never know now, will we? And I really don't think there's any point in talking about this again."

With that, she went back into her bedroom and closed the door, leaving him standing beside his bed alone.

--------------------------------   



	11. New Traditions

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.   
  


--------------------------------   


Jareth lay awake late into the night. Initially, he had been furious with Sarah. Apparently, she took him for a fool. Her continued denial of the very clear attraction between them would certainly indicate that she thought as much. However, after her admission of the truth, and after he had carefully considered her answer to his question, his anger had faded. 

Her continued resistance made him reassess what he perceived to be her dreams. He had been so certain that he'd known what Sarah wanted, and while he wasn't usually wrong in his assessment of people, he wasn't infallible.

He thought back to their conversations. She had wished for her family to be alive again. Wishes were not necessarily dreams, but perhaps in Sarah's case they were the same.

She was tired of being alone. She wanted her family.   


He had to find some way to give them back to her. It was not possible to restore them to life and she would not accept an illusion, but perhaps they could live again in another way.

--------------------------------   


The next morning, Sarah arose early. Her eyes burned and felt gritty, and she knew she needed more than the couple of hours sleep that she had gotten, but she wanted to get this task out of the way before Jareth awoke. She couldn't afford for it to be the basis of further discussion later in the day.   


Sarah crept through the living room, pulling on her coat and then went out the back door. The snow seemed to have stopped for the moment, but the temperature was still well below freezing. The sun was just rising to the east, but it was far too cold to linger and admire the light beginning to play over the snow.   


Pulling the plastic sled away from the back door where they had left it, Sarah slowly began struggling through the snow and made her way to the shed where the firewood was kept. Opening the door, she quickly loaded the sled.   


She took the wood back into the cabin and piled it on the storage room floor, trying to be as quiet as possible. She'd decided to leave it there until Jareth was awake and then, while he was in the shower, she would fill the wood box in the living room. 

Sarah made a second trip to the shed and was stacking wood onto the sled when a shadow fell across the doorway. She glanced up quickly to see Jareth standing there. He didn't speak; he simply began helping her stack the wood onto the sled.   


--------------------------------   


Once they made it back into the cabin, they filled the wood box and rebuilt the fire.   


"Why don't you take your shower while I make breakfast," Sarah said. "Then I'll take a shower while you eat. I didn't take one last night."   


"You wish to avoid me?" he asked with a frown. "That is impossible in this place, surely you know that."   


"I'm not trying to avoid you," Sarah said shaking her head. "I just don't want to argue with you, not today. I'm really tired and on top of everything else, it's Christmas Eve. Toby used to love this day, with all its anticipation..." her voice trailed away. "I used to love this day. We all did." A wistful note had entered her voice. 

Jareth's expression softened. "Your family enjoyed this day?"   


Sarah nodded, surprised at his interest.   


"Christmas is a holiday, is it not?" Jareth asked. "How do you celebrate?"   


Sarah was silent for so long that Jareth thought she wasn't going to answer. Finally, she began to speak in a hesitant voice.   


"Well, first we'd all go and pick out a tree and take it home. Mostly we'd just buy one but one year we actually drove out to a friend's farm and cut down a tree. That was fun." Sarah smiled faintly. "Anyway, we'd decorate the tree and my stepmother would spend all day cooking while my dad and I tried to keep Toby from bouncing off the walls because he was so excited over Santa Claus." 

"Santa Claus?" 

"He's an elf that comes down the chimney on Christmas Eve and leaves presents for children to find on Christmas morning," she said dryly.  


"Why does he enter through the chimney? That seems unnecessarily dangerous. And what is the purpose of the gifts?" Jareth asked, confused.   


"It's just a story. Santa Claus isn't real," Sarah said and then narrowed her eyes at Jareth thoughtfully. "At least, I don't think he's real. After I met you, I was never really sure about that."   


Jareth saw her contemplative look and shook his head. "I have met no such elf."   


Sarah gave a harsh laugh and briefly covered her face with her hands. "Do you have any idea how surreal this conversation is?" She shook her head. "Anyway, none of this is important. I don't celebrate Christmas anymore. I don't like being reminded of... of everything that happened."   


Jareth was silent for a moment. "Since your family enjoyed this holiday, perhaps you would feel better if you would honor their memory rather than dwell upon their deaths," he finally said. "If the situation had been reversed, Sarah, would you have wanted your family to mourn you to the exclusion of enjoying life?"   


"I haven't done that," she said defensively.   


Jareth merely raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you? Then go with me now to obtain a tree for this festivity."   


"You can't be serious," Sarah said in disbelief.   


"Why not? If this holiday was pleasing to you and your family, why should it not be pleasing to you again?"   


"It wouldn't be the same," Sarah said, looking away from Jareth.   


"No," he agreed. "It will never be the same. But perhaps it is time to make new memories and stop avoiding the old."   


"Well, haven't you turned out to be quite the amateur psychologist?" Her voice was sarcastic.   


He just crossed his arms and looked at her steadily.   


She gave a peevish sigh. "We'd have to go back out outside and it's freezing."   


"We are both already cold and wet," he said calmly. "Now would be the most logical time to go." He picked up her coat and held it out to her.   


She stared at him, completely bewildered. "Why are you doing this?"   


"Because we are trapped here together and when you are in a foul mood, you have no qualms about talking it out on me," he said in a pleasant tone.   


"Oh, look who's talking," she shot back.   


She hesitated and then snatched the coat from his hand. "All right, but if this makes me feel worse, _you'll_ have to take it back outside."   


--------------------------------   


They went to the storage shed to retrieve a handsaw and a shovel. Towing the sled behind them, they made their way through the small clearing behind the cabin into a more heavily wooded area. Stopping for a moment, Sarah instinctively examined the trees with a critical eye, looking for one with the right height and shape. Selecting a likely candidate, she waded her way through the snow to circle the tree, looking for imperfections.   


When she nodded her approval, Jareth used the shovel to scrape the snow away from the base of the tree. Since Jareth had never used a saw before, he held the tree steady while Sarah knelt down and quickly sawed through the trunk.   


The tree was loaded onto the sled and they took it back to the cabin and left it by the back door. Another trip to the storage shed to drop off the tools and pick up the boxes of decorations, and they were finally back at the cabin.   


After a few false starts, they wrestled the tree into the stand and finally tipped it upright. They took turns showering and changing clothes and then, with the clean smell of fresh pine needles filling the cabin, Sarah made breakfast.   


They ate quickly and Sarah washed the dishes while Jareth unpacked the boxes of decorations.   


--------------------------------   


Jareth watched Sarah while she sat in the floor, looking into various boxes of ornaments. Her eyes had brightened and she wore a slight smile.   


"My grandmother always used silver and gold ornaments," she said. "She thought they looked best with the multi-colored lights."   


"These are placed upon the tree?" Jareth crouched next to her, examining a fragile silver ball with a small metal hook attached to the top.   


"Well, you have to put the lights on first," she answered, nodding toward the tangled green ropes she had pulled from one of the larger boxes. "Then you put on the ornaments."   


Jareth carefully replaced the glass ornament and picked up one of the ropes of lights.   


"It will take hours to straighten these," he said.   


Sarah shook her head. "No, it looks worse than it really is. Watch."   


She took them from his hand and unwrapped the end that was twisted around the rest of the lights. She gently shook the lights and the strand began to loosen and drop free. They still tangled in a few places, but she quickly worked them apart.   


Sarah plugged the lights into an electrical outlet and Jareth watched as they began emitting a soft luminescence. In a few moments, they began to blink off and on in a random pattern. Sarah smiled widely.  


"I was afraid they wouldn't work but they're fine," she said, obviously pleased.   


She began to drape the lights along the tree branches. When she had finished, she repeated the process with another strand of lights and Jareth had to admit that the jewel toned lights glowing among the green of the tree had a pretty effect.   


"Now we put on the ornaments," Sarah said, picking up a box of the glass spheres. "Well?" She glanced at Jareth over her shoulder. "This was your idea, remember? Are you going to just stand there and watch or are you going to help?"   


With a raised eyebrow, he picked up a box of ornaments and went to her side.   


--------------------------------   


Sarah stood back, looking at the tree. It was beautiful, she thought. To her complete surprise, she didn't feel the horrible sadness that she'd thought she would feel. Maybe it was because the setting was different; she'd never spent Christmas at the cabin before. Or maybe it was because she'd decorated the tree with Jareth; she'd certainly never done that before, either.   


At that thought, she gave him a sidelong look. He was standing with his hands on hips, head tilted, looking at the tree closely. He'd turned out to be one of those people who redecorated the tree after it was finished. Immediately after she had placed her last ornament on the tree, he'd begun switching the colors so that there weren't two gold or silver ornaments hanging side by side.   


But it had made the tree even prettier, she admitted with a wry smile.   


"Now what is the next thing we should do?" he asked.   


At that, Sarah stopped and shook her head, suddenly at a loss. "I... I don't know," she said softly. "This isn't..." She bit her lip. "This is new."   


"Your stepmother cooked, you said. Is there a traditional meal to be prepared?"   


"Not for today, but tomorrow... I didn't buy a turkey. I don't think I have all the things to make stuffing, anyway. I know I don't have the yeast to make rolls," she said, a crease suddenly marring her forehead. "And there's supposed to be cranberry sauce."   


The more that it occurred to her that she had no way to make the traditional Christmas dinner, the harder it became to breathe.   


Jareth frowned. Sarah had wrapped her arms protectively around herself and her voice was shaking. She was obviously becoming more and more upset as she spoke.   


"Then we will have a different menu," he said soothingly. "This traditional meal seems far too elaborate for merely the two of us, in any case."   


She nodded, and then bowed her head and took a sharp breath. "It's really never going to be the same again, is it?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.   


"No," Jareth replied, softly. "It is not."   


He watched an almost panicked expression creep into her eyes. She turned back to the tree and began shaking her head. Before she could speak, he reached out and touched her arm. Startled, she looked back at him.   


"What was your favorite meal when you were a child?" he asked. "Perhaps that is the meal we should have tomorrow. Again, we will start a new tradition."   


Her eyes began clear and she relaxed slightly. "Um, well, we certainly can't have a Happy Meal."   


"While it may not be joyous, there is no reason for it to be a sad occasion, either," Jareth replied.   


He was dumbfounded when Sarah snorted and then began to laugh softly.   


"No," she said, still smiling, "a Happy Meal is a child's meal that you get at a particular restaurant. I loved those when I was a kid. There was always a little toy or something in them."   


While Jareth didn't appreciate being laughed at simply because he failed to know the menu of a restaurant, at least it seemed to have broken the tension that had been building within her.   


She tilted her head and looked at him. "What was your favorite meal when you were a kid?"   


He raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment. "Honey cakes," he finally said. "When I was a small boy, whenever there was a special occasion, our cook would prepare spiced honey cakes cooked on a griddle for our breakfast. They were not overly sweet and I enjoyed them very much."   


"How about your favorite meal as an adult?" Sarah asked.   


"Roasted chicken," he said without hesitation.   


"I'm surprised," she said, raising an eyebrow, "I would have thought something more exotic."   


Jareth sighed. "The goblins tend to be careless with their livestock, particularly their chickens, and they end up in the castle from time to time. Each time I eat a roasted chicken, I am assured that there is one less underfoot."

Sarah's mouth rounded in astonishment and then she burst out laughing. "That's mean," she said, still laughing.   


"Not at all," he answered with a smile. "It is clearly self-defense. They make a terrible mess."   


--------------------------------   


Sarah made lunch and after they'd eaten, Jareth read while she sat at the dining table, poring through her grandmother's recipes and cookbooks. Matching what she had in the storeroom against recipes, she'd finally decided on a modified version of her grandmother's Sunday dinner: roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green peas and corn. She could even make an apple pie for dessert.  


She glanced up at Jareth. He was sitting, one hand propping his head up, and one leg drawn up under him, leaning comfortably against the arm of the sofa. He looked completely relaxed.   


It seemed that last night's disagreement had been forgotten, at least by Jareth. After she'd given it some thought, she couldn't really blame him for what happened. He'd tried and she'd said no. He'd dropped the subject and she had been the one to pursue it. And today, he'd been pleasant and she'd been the one getting defensive.   


The flashing lights of the Christmas tree drew her attention. It really was very pretty, she thought. It just seemed a little sad without any presents under it, though. Sarah bit her lip. Jareth was so curious about the Christmas holiday. Maybe there was a way to put their argument behind them and allow him to have a bit more of the holiday experience, but she couldn't remember what supplies had been left here at the cabin or taken back to New York with her.   


Sarah walked across the room to the shelves by the stereo and breathed a sigh of relief when she found what she'd hoped to find.   


Jareth looked up at her curiously.   


"I'm still working on the menu," she said and he nodded. When he turned his attention back to his book, she picked up a sketchpad and an assortment of pencils and erasers from the shelf. Turning back casually, she held them against her and returned to the dining table.   


She quickly propped several of the cookbooks open on the table and hid the pad behind them. When she was certain that he was still reading, Sarah picked up a pencil and began to sketch, stealing glances at him. When she'd roughed out the sketch to her satisfaction, she closed the pad. She would finish it tonight and surprise him with it in the morning.   


She began to gather up the cookbooks when something else occurred to her. She paused and then opened the books again, looking for one last recipe.   


--------------------------------   


"Did you want to play?" Jareth asked, gesturing toward the backgammon set as Sarah began to put away the cookbooks.   


"Not today, if you don't mind. I'd rather not have time to sit and think about things." She hesitated. "Could we just talk?"   


Surprised, Jareth set his book aside. "About?"   


Sarah put the last of the cookbooks away and turned back to him.   


"I've wanted to ask--how are Hoggle and Sir Didymus and Ludo? I haven't seen them in so long."   


Now Jareth was truly taken aback. "You haven't kept in contact with them? You were able to do so. I allowed them the freedom to visit you."   


Sarah looked down. "I haven't called them since before..." Her voice trailed off and she gestured mutely toward the Christmas tree. "And then I was afraid they wouldn't come."   


"They are well, as far as I am aware. The dwarf is still tending the shrubbery near the Labyrinth entrance. The little knight has returned to guarding the bridge," Jareth looked at Sarah pointedly, "after it was rebuilt. As for the other creature, he routinely frightens my guards."   


"They pick on him," Sarah admonished.   


"Not any longer," Jareth grinned briefly. "It seems that he usually has pebbles and small rocks trailing along in his wake. Now when he is seen, the guards run in the opposite direction."   


"Good for Ludo," Sarah smiled and sat on the sofa next to him. After a moment, she frowned slightly. "You need better guards. If the four of us could beat them, it doesn't say much about their abilities," she pointed out.   


Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Your concern is touching, but unnecessary. I fear no attack." He smiled bitterly. "What does my kingdom have that anyone would want?"   


Sarah drew her legs up under her to sit cross-legged on the sofa. "That brings up something else that I've been wondering about. If the Labyrinth is so powerful, if you can do so much that the others can't do, then why aren't you running the whole place?"   


"High King?" Jareth was astonished for a moment and then threw his head back and laughed. "Why ever would I want to be High King?"   


"Well," Sarah fidgeted for a moment, "you don't seem very happy running the Goblin Kingdom. I thought you might want to be the one in charge of everything. Just because your great-great grandfather got stuck with the job, why should you have to put up with it?"   


Jareth shook his head. "It would not be a matter of simply announcing that I had decided to be High King. It would require that I curry favor with the various kingdoms in order to garner support in the war that would inevitably follow."   


"Oh," Sarah said, "I didn't know. I just thought it would be whoever was the most powerful."   


"Politically powerful, yes," Jareth agreed. "Not necessarily who controls the most magical power."   


Sarah looked down and played with the hem of her jeans. "What does it feel like? To be able to do magic?"   


He smiled, slightly bemused at her questions. "Like breathing, I suppose. It is simply part of who I am."   


"Did you have to be taught?" She looked up at him. "Or were you born being able to do it?"   


"I had to be trained to control it." He nodded slightly. "But I was born with the ability."   


Sarah laughed. "That must have allowed you to throw some pretty spectacular temper tantrums when you were a baby."   


"That is the reason that a child's ability is not initially as strong as his parents," Jareth replied with a smile, then gave her a thoughtful look. "I am not certain that your abilities will ever grow to match my own. You are not fae and this is a rather unique situation."   


"My abilities?" Sarah looked flabbergasted. "What do you mean--my abilities?"   


"I cannot have a queen who is unable to control magic," Jareth said, puzzled at her reaction. "If for no other reason, you will need it simply to deal with the goblins. Therefore, you will be granted access to my magic through our marriage ceremony. But surely you were aware of this?"   


"How was I supposed to be aware of it?" she demanded, throwing up her hands. "I don't know anything about what goes on in the Underground."   


He gave a slow smile. "Does this make a difference? Are you now more amenable to returning?"   


"No," she said flatly. "It doesn't make a difference." She shrugged slightly. "Well, I mean, not that it wouldn't be great to be able to..." She broke off her sentence at his knowing look and said defensively, "No, it doesn't make a difference."   


"Just think of the things you would be able to do, Sarah," Jareth said, his voice suddenly low and inviting. "Would you like to move from place to place at will? Or perhaps you would like to take the mental images you have and put them on canvas exactly as you see them in your mind's eye. They would be perfect. I can teach you how to do these things."   


"Stop that," she admonished.   


"Stop what?" he asked, innocence personified.   


"Trying to tempt me," Sarah said, chagrined. "It's not going to work."   


Jareth raised an eyebrow and smirked.   


Sarah shot him a warning glance and pointed at him. "Don't say a word. We're not going to talk about that."   


"Why do you resist so?" Jareth asked, frustration suddenly seeping into his voice.   


"Why are you so determined to keep trying to convince me?" She frowned.   


"Because I need to go home, Sarah," Jareth said sharply. He stood abruptly and began pacing in front of the sofa. "I have duties and responsibilities. The goblins have probably already destroyed everything within their grasp. And by now even the most dull-witted of them has surely noticed that their king has simply vanished. They must be confused and frightened about what has taken place. My kingdom needs my attention and I cannot even summon up enough magic to look at my world, much less return to it." 

Sarah looked stricken. "I'm so sorry," she said softly.   


He turned to her. "Do not apologize. This is not your fault. As soon as the Labyrinth stops playing this childish game and allows me access to my magic, we will return."   


She glanced down. "You still don't know what you're supposed to do?"   


"No," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I am not certain."   


"Um, if we're going to have Christmas dinner, I'd better take the chicken out of the freezer," Sarah said.   


Jareth looked at her curiously when she wouldn't meet his eyes.   


"Is something wrong?" he asked.   


"No," she shook her head, her eyes flashed up to his and then quickly away. "Nothing."   


--------------------------------   


Sarah put the frozen chicken on a plate and placed it in the refrigerator to thaw. She started checking to make certain that she had all the ingredients for tomorrow's dinner, but her thoughts kept turning back to Jareth. She hadn't really considered this situation from his perspective. And this didn't affect just him; it was affecting an entire kingdom. 

He did need to go home.   


Sighing, Sarah leaned against the kitchen counter. Well, now what was she supposed to do? Jareth would be furious when he learned of the deal she'd made with the Labyrinth. Would it be enough to simply tell him of it or would the Labyrinth consider that it hadn't lived up to its part of the bargain until they slept together? Either way, she'd have to go back to the Underground and she wasn't certain she was ready to do that. There were still too many unanswered questions.

Tears filled her eyes as she realized that all those years of waiting for the right man had been wasted because of a careless agreement that she'd made in a _dream_.

Resigned, she realized that there was only one way to get the answers she needed. She was going to have to ask Jareth.   


--------------------------------   


During dinner, Sarah merely picked at her food and was unusually quiet. When she still said little while washing the dishes, Jareth finally inquired if she felt well. 

"I'm fine," she replied, tossing the dishtowel onto the counter. She walked over and sat on the sofa next to him. "I just have some things I'd like to ask you," she said softly.  


"All right." Jareth looked at her expectantly.   


"If I went back to the Underground... If we got married... I don't know anything about being a queen. What exactly would I have to do?"   


Jareth briefly looked surprised at her question. "_When_ we go back, I will instruct you in your duties. Your primary responsibility would be running the household, dealing with the staff and giving them their commands. After you are more comfortable in that role, I will teach you the political aspects of being queen." His tone became reassuring. "You are an intelligent woman, you will be able to learn these things easily."   


A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. "Does that mean that I can have the castle cleaned?"   


"Of course. _If_ you can persuade the goblins to clean to your satisfaction." Jareth smiled. "And should you can manage to keep the livestock out of the castle, I will be delighted."   


"Oh, that's a given, the livestock have got to go." Her smile widened and then suddenly faded.   


"Would I ever be able to come back and visit Gary? I don't like the thought of never seeing him again. He's been such a good friend to me. My only friend, really."   


"You may visit this world for short periods of time," Jareth nodded. "I would accompany you until you became comfortable moving between the worlds, but you should be able to visit on your own eventually."   


Relief swept through her and tears prickled her eyelids. She hesitated and then took a deep breath.   


"What about your "acquaintances?" Would you, um, try to be discreet? Because I'd rather that everybody wasn't laughing at me behind my back." Sarah kept her eyes firmly fixed on her lap.   


"You presume that I would be unfaithful to you?" Jareth's tone was suddenly sharp.   


Confused, Sarah's eyes shot up to meet his. "Well, wouldn't you?"   


"Would you take the marriage vows so lightly?" Jareth's expression had grown cold.   


"No, I wouldn't," she met his sharp tone with her own. "I wouldn't take them lightly at all, and if I promise to be faithful then I will. But you--you'd have to give up all those other women." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't even like me. Why would I expect you to agree to that?"   


"I do like you, Sarah," Jareth said firmly. Surprise swept over him as he uttered the words, but he had to acknowledge that they were true. He had grown to like her. The girl who had whined about everything being unfair during her initial trip through the Labyrinth had matured into an intelligent and capable woman.   


At his words, Sarah looked as surprised as he felt and then a faint blush crept over her cheeks, and she smiled uncertainly at him.   


"I like you, too," she said softly. "I didn't expect to, but I do."   


Jareth smiled and then his expression turned serious.   


"In the Underground, when a king marries, it is important that the parentage of the children of that union be assured. Therefore, during the marriage ceremony, a vow of fidelity is made. The fae are bound by their word. _I_ will be bound by my word." He held her gaze with his own. "Humans are not bound by their promises."   


"I am," Sarah said quietly. "If I ever make that kind of promise, I won't go back on my word."   


Jareth regarded her solemnly and then nodded slowly.   


"That brings up another subject," Sarah continued, looking down again. "You said that the Labyrinth chose me because you didn't have a wife or an heir. I assume that means that you want to have children."   


Amused, he saw that she was blushing again.   


"Of course," he replied. "Do you dislike children?"   


"No, I like them," she said, her cheeks crimson. "How many children were you thinking of?" She stole a glance up at him.  


"Thirty-six," he answered promptly.  


"What?" Shock was apparent on her face and her eyes grew huge.   


He began laughing. "Sarah, I hope to have several children, but I had not selected a particular number."  


"It just seems so weird to even be talking about this," Sarah said. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back wearily against the back of the sofa. "Other than that dance, there certainly wasn't anything that would have made me think that you and I would ever be talking about marriage."   


"Dance?" Jareth asked.   


Sarah's eyes flew open.

"What dance?" 

"Oh, shit," she murmured.

Jareth gave her a confused look and Sarah sighed. "I'd forgotten that you probably didn't know about that. After I took a bite of the peach that Hoggle gave me, I had a dream," she explained.

Comprehension flared in Jareth's eyes. "And you dreamt that you danced with me?" he asked curiously.

Sarah nodded, embarrassed. "You really didn't know anything about it?"

"No." Jareth shook his head. "I sent you a dream, but not a specific one. I wasn't aware of what you were dreaming. You selected the content." He tilted his head. "Tell me of this dream."

"I, um, it was just a dance," she stammered.

"Where did it take place?" Jareth coaxed.

"It was a party. Kind of. Maybe a masquerade ball, actually." Sarah had dropped her eyes and blushed again.

"And we simply danced?" Jareth was careful to keep his smile hidden. 

"Well, there might have been some, uh, singing." Sarah twisted her fingers together. 

"Singing?" Jareth asked, surprised. "Who was singing?"

Sarah jumped up from the sofa. "You know, I didn't get much sleep last night and I'm really very tired, so I'm going to take my shower and go to bed. I'll need to get up early in the morning to start cooking Christmas dinner."

Before Jareth could reply, she rushed into her bedroom. In a moment, she reappeared with her robe and the shirt she used as a nightgown and in the next instant, she went into the bathroom and firmly shut the door. 

Sarah stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. She was more tired than she had realized. She could not believe that she'd slipped and told Jareth about that dance. At least she now knew that it had all been in her imagination. While she'd always suspected as much, the disappointment she felt was bitterly sharp. Everything in that dream had been nothing more than a silly young girl's romantic fantasy.

Forcing those thoughts away, Sarah stepped into the shower to quickly bathe and wash her hair. Finished showering, she wrapped a towel around her body. As she flipped on the blow dryer, she decided that she would say a quick goodnight and then, when she was safely in her room, she would finish the sketch she intended to give Jareth as a Christmas present.

--------------------------------   


Intrigued by Sarah's rapid departure, Jareth looked at the bathroom door and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So she had dreamt of him even then. He smiled to himself. Although he knew that fulfilling this dream was far too simple to be the task that the Labyrinth had set before him, it would take little effort and it would please Sarah. Perhaps it would help to brighten her mood for the upcoming holiday. 

Rising, Jareth began to look through her compact disks. 

--------------------------------   


Sarah slipped on her nightshirt, robe and slippers and opened the bathroom door. As she stepped into the living room, she saw Jareth standing at the shelves, facing her.

"You have me at a disadvantage," he said.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Jareth pressed a button on the stereo and music began to play softly.

"You have danced with me, but I have not danced with you." Jareth smiled and walked toward her.

Convinced that he was mocking her, Sarah looked sharply into his eyes but saw no derision. 

"You want to dance with me?" she asked, confused. "But why?"

"Why not?" He stopped in front of her, still smiling. When she didn't immediately respond, his smile faded and he shook his head slightly. "I thought you might enjoy it. Perhaps I was wrong."

She looked at him closely. Stunned, she realized that Jareth was trying to make her feel better.

"I would like that," Sarah said quietly, "but I'm not exactly dressed for dancing." She gestured toward her robe.

"I promise not to tell," he said solemnly. He placed one hand at her waist and held out his other hand, waiting.

Her heart suddenly pounding, Sarah placed her hand in his. 

Jareth paused for a moment, finding the rhythm of the music, and then moved them into the dance. Their 'dance floor' was much too small to allow for anything more than a tight circuit of the room, but Jareth danced as smoothly as if they were in a large ballroom.

"Are you going to tell me about the singing?" he inquired curiously.

She winced slightly and shook her head firmly. "Definitely not."

He laughed and changed the subject. "Is this anything like the dance in your dream?"

"No," she said, suddenly feeling absurdly shy, "but this is better."

He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"It's real," she said simply.

Jareth smiled and, as the music drew to a close, he guided Sarah back across the living room, neatly finishing the dance at her bedroom door.

"Well, I guess I should say goodnight," Sarah said softly.

Jareth still held her in his arms and as she spoke, an unfamiliar emotion flickered through her eyes. He found himself puzzling over it. It wasn't desire, although, stubborn girl, he could still see that clearly enough. No, he thought, this was some softer emotion.

On impulse, before he even thought it through, he leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips to hers.

"Goodnight," he said, stepping back.

Sarah looked dazed and then she smiled. She opened the bedroom door and, still smiling, went inside and closed the door.  


--------------------------------   


Sarah leaned against the door with a soft sigh, thinking of how wonderful it had been to dance with him. Even though there had been no sparkling ballroom, no masked guests or frilly dress, this dance had been far better than her dream could have ever hoped to be. Jareth had kissed her exactly the way she'd thought he was going to kiss her in that dream. 

A worried frown suddenly creased her brow. She knew that she had to tell him the truth. He had to go home. But not tomorrow, she thought resolutely. Tomorrow was Christmas and she wanted to give Jareth his present and have Christmas dinner. She wanted one last chance at pretending to have a normal holiday before having to return to the Underground.   


The day after Christmas, she decided. She would tell Jareth everything then.   


She just hoped he could forgive her.   


--------------------------------   



	12. Exchanging Gifts

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.   


--------------------------------   


As soon as Sarah finished her morning routine in the bathroom, she slipped past the still sleeping Jareth and went into the storage room to find the cartons that held the remaining Christmas decorations. Rummaging through them, Sarah found a flat box large enough to hold the sketch. A little more digging produced a half-used roll of wrapping paper and a large red bow that was only slightly squished. She smiled at the childish Santa Claus figures that covered the bright green paper.   


A quick trip to the kitchen 'junk' drawer for a roll of tape and a pair of scissors and a few minutes later, Jareth's present was wrapped.   


When Sarah came out of the storage room, she heard the shower running. Quickly, she placed his present under the Christmas tree. Returning to the kitchen, she put the kettle on the stove for tea and began preparing breakfast.   


--------------------------------   


Jareth finished dressing and, when he opened the bathroom door, he could smell the aroma of breakfast. He recognized bacon and eggs, but there was something else, something familiar. He went into the kitchen and his eyes widened as he recognized the small golden-brown cakes that Sarah was piling onto a serving plate.   


"Merry Christmas," she said with a smile.   


"You have made honey cakes," he said, both amazement and pleasure obvious in his expression.   


"I made a version of them, anyway," she replied. "I obviously don't have your cook's recipe. I hope you like them."   


"Why did you do this?" he asked, suddenly puzzled.   


Her smile widened to a grin. "Because it's Christmas and because I thought you'd like them." She gestured toward the dining table. "Well, sit down. You can tell me how close I came to getting them right."   


--------------------------------   


Jareth took a bite of a honey cake as Sarah looked on anxiously.   


After a moment, he smiled and nodded. "It is delicious," he said and watched as she relaxed. "They are very similar to ones that I had as a child."   


Sarah frowned. "How are they wrong?" she asked. "Too much cinnamon? Too little? Are they too sweet? I can make more."   


Jareth laughed softly and shook his head. He gestured toward the platter. "There is already more here than we can eat."   


She gave a chagrined smile and shrugged slightly. "I just wanted them to be the way that you remember."   


"Then should you make them again, add a bit more of the spice," he said as he selected a second honey cake. "But these are very close to the ones I had as a child." He hesitated briefly before continuing. "It was very kind of you to do this for me."   


"You're welcome. But that's not your only surprise this morning," Sarah said mysteriously.   


"Another surprise? What is it?"   


"You'll see," she answered smugly.   


"You will tell me now," Jareth demanded. His tone was imperious, but the hint of a smile tugged at his mouth.   


"Oh, no, I won't," Sarah said promptly. "I'll tell you after breakfast." She lifted a forkful of honey cake to her mouth.   


"_Immediately_ after breakfast," he specified.   


Sarah smirked.   


--------------------------------   


Jareth helped Sarah stack the dishes in the sink, but before she could begin to rinse them off, he touched her arm.   


"Now, what is this other surprise?" Jareth asked. Impatience flooded his voice and Sarah laughed. She'd known that his fae nature would be tantalized by the prospect of a surprise and she couldn't resist drawing things out as long as possible.   


"Are you sure you don't want to wait?" she asked.   


"Sarah," Jareth said, warning clear in his voice. "_What_ is the other surprise?"   


"The tree looks very nice, don't you think?" she asked with exaggerated innocence.   


Jareth's eyes narrowed. "This is not amusing, Sarah. You are deliberately avoiding the subject in an effort to tease."   


Sarah laughed. "It may not be amusing for you, but I'm certainly enjoying it." Her eyes gleamed. "And I gave you a hint."

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Jareth turned to look at the tree. His head tilted as he noticed the green and red package under it.   


"What is this?" he asked, walking to the tree.   


"It's your Christmas present." Sarah followed him with a grin.   


"My present?" Jareth shook his head slightly. "I do not understand."   


"It's Christmas Day. On Christmas Day, you get presents. Well, you get one present, anyway," Sarah explained.   


"But I have nothing to give you in return." He glanced at her, confused.   


"That doesn't matter." Sarah smiled. "That's not the point of Christmas. Come on, don't you want to open it?"   


She bent down and picked up the gift. Rising, she held it out to Jareth and waved it temptingly from side to side.   


"You know you want it," she teased.   


Jareth arched an eyebrow and smiled slowly. Sarah was not the only one who could tease. He deliberately allowed his gaze to drift over her from head to toe. "Yes," he drawled. "I believe that I do."   


Sarah's mouth dropped open slightly and her cheeks reddened.   


"Here," she said hastily and thrust the package into his hands.   


It was so easy to make her blush, Jareth thought with a self-satisfied smile, and Sarah deserved it for tormenting him regarding the surprise. Turning his attention to the package, he began to carefully remove the wrapping paper.   


"You're supposed to just tear the paper off," she said impatiently, her hands beginning to flutter over the package he held.   


He arched an eyebrow. "Would _you_ care to open it?"   


Sarah didn't look the least bit chastened. "No." She pouted slightly. "It's your present. You should do it the way that you want."   


He looked at her closely. She was acting almost as if she were an excited child. Her eyes were bright and she was even bouncing slightly on her feet.   


"You are truly enjoying this," he said, surprised.   


"Well, yeah," she exclaimed. "It's the best part of Christmas."   


"Giving gifts? Not receiving them?"   


"That's fun, too, but this is better." She shook her head slightly and pointed at the gift. "Are you going to open it?"   


He gave a bemused nod and then suddenly smirked at Sarah as he once again began to delicately remove the paper from the box.   


"Oh, for pity's sake, you opened the gloves faster than this." Her tone was exasperated and the bouncing motion she was making had become more pronounced. Jareth laughed softly and abruptly ripped the rest of the paper from the package.   


He opened the box to find a framed picture. As he lifted it from the box, he saw that it was a sketch.   


He'd had formal portraits painted, of course. A near life-size portrait hung in the great hall of his castle that depicted him standing before his throne. There were others, done by various artists, displayed in different locations within the castle. But none of them compared to this small drawing.   


The detail was astonishing. Sarah had captured him in the process of reading, relaxed upon the cabin's sofa. He held a book in one hand, and his head rested on the other. He wore a faint smile as if amused by what he was reading.   


Jareth's mouth quirked when he saw that Sarah had taken a small artistic liberty. Rather than the dog-eared copy of "The Hobbit" that he had actually been reading, the book in the drawing was entitled "The Labyrinth."   


What truly surprised Jareth was the sense of ease that Sarah had captured in the sketch. In each official portrait, there was a tension and an arrogant determination in his bearing that was completely absent here.   


Jareth noted with a small shock that he appeared to be almost...content.   


"Do you like it?" Sarah asked hopefully. "I mean, obviously I couldn't buy you a real present, but I framed it so that it would seem more like one."   


"This is a real present," Jareth said quietly. "When did you create this?"   


"Last night," she said. "You like it, then?"   


"Very much," Jareth said. "Thank you. It is exquisite."   


Sarah smiled widely. "You're welcome."   


Jareth looked down at the sketch in his hands and then at the woman standing before him. "If you worked on this last night, you must have slept very little. You should rest a bit." He reached out and Sarah's eyes widened but she didn't flinch as he brushed a gloved finger gently over a shadow under her eyes. "You are tired."   


"If I take a nap, then dinner will be late."

"Then it will be late." Jareth shrugged.   


Sarah suddenly tilted her head suspiciously. "This from a man who doesn't like to wait for anything? Are you trying to get rid of me?"   


He smiled. "I am merely attempting to insure that you are not so exhausted that you inadvertently poison my meal."   


She hesitated. "A little more sleep would be wonderful. But just an hour. If I sleep past that, you'll wake me up, right?"   


"I will wake you." Jareth nodded.   


--------------------------------   
  
Sarah did need the rest, but Jareth also wanted an opportunity to think of something to give her in return. If he had access to his magic, he could conjure virtually anything she might want but he had nothing here that would serve as a suitable gift. Therefore, by necessity, it must be something intangible.   


After thinking it over carefully, he made his decision. A small voice in his mind instinctively protested even considering such a gift, but the initial antipathy he had to the idea made it all the more appropriate. 

There was only one question that Sarah had asked that he had flatly refused to answer. He intensely disliked discussing that particular topic; he found the entire subject abhorrent. But Sarah was curious and so he would satisfy her curiosity. 

She had gone to a great deal of trouble in order to prepare a present for him. It was only fitting that he match her offering with one of his own.

Nodding to himself slightly, he picked up his book. Bilbo was just now creeping into Smaug's lair and Jareth was curious to learn how the little hobbit would survive his encounter with the dragon.   


--------------------------------   


Sarah stretched out on the bed and plumped the pillow under her head. She looked over at her grandmother's photograph, now propped up against the dresser mirror.

"Thanks for letting me use your picture frame, Grandma," she said softly. "I knew you wouldn't mind."

Sarah smiled to herself. Jareth had seemed to like the sketch. It was fun surprising him, she decided sleepily. She'd have to try to surprise him more often.

Then Sarah was drifting into sleep and in the next few minutes, she began to dream.

She was sitting on the sofa in the cabin. The Christmas tree that she and Jareth had decorated was across the room, but this tree had a great mound of presents under it.

"I don't think Toby can stand waiting any longer," her father chuckled, walking in from the kitchen. "We'd better go ahead and open the presents."

Toby followed him, laughing and clapping his hands in excitement. He dropped down to sit cross-legged on the floor as close to the presents as possible.

Sarah looked around the cabin. Her father and Toby were there in front of the Christmas tree and her stepmother was sitting in the chair beside the sofa smiling at both of them fondly.  


Sarah's father bent down and began moving presents aside, selecting specific gifts. After he had located one present for each of them, he began to pass them out.

"Okay, kid, this one is for you," he said as he handed a brightly wrapped package to Toby.

Sarah chuckled as her brother let out an excited squeal and began to rip the paper from his present.

"Jareth," her father said, holding out a familiar green and red package. "I believe this is yours."

Surprised, Sarah turned her head and saw that Jareth was sitting by her side. She hadn't noticed him there before. 

Jareth smiled and inclined his head as he took the package from her father, but instead of opening it, he simply held the present in his hands and looked at Sarah.

"Sarah," her father admonished, placing his hands on his hips, "aren't you going to help Jareth open his gift?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. Sure, Dad."

As Jareth held the present, Sarah tore off the wrapping paper and removed the lid from the box. Inside was her childhood music box, the tiny princess already dancing and twirling to the melody that was beginning to play. Jareth lifted the music box and held it up.

"Such a pity," he murmured.

"What?" Sarah asked, looking at the music box. Was it broken?

"She is alone," Jareth said sadly. He raised an eyebrow and brushed his hand over the music box. Suddenly, a blond king in a glittering blue coat accompanied the princess.

Sarah frowned.

"No," she said slowly. "That's not right. That's not right at all."

Jareth tilted his head and regarded her solemnly. With another brush of his fingers, the princess vanished, replaced by a woman wearing a pale pink bathrobe, and the king was suddenly a man in a dark Armani suit. 

Jareth held the music box out toward her.

"Do you want it, Sarah?" he asked.

"Sarah?"

For a disorienting second, Jareth's voice seemed to be coming from all around her.

"Sarah? Are you awake?"

Sarah's eyes flew open and she saw Jareth standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

She blinked and then rubbed her eyes. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and nodded to Jareth.

"Yes, I'm awake. I'll be out in a minute," she said.

He nodded back and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sarah sat on the edge of the bed and tried to shake off the dream. It had been perfectly understandable, she decided. Christmas and presents and dancing had all blended together in her subconscious to produce a pretty little dream.

It had been nice, she thought wistfully, seeing her family like that. But she didn't want to think about the dream too closely. There were things there. Things she wasn't certain she wanted to know.

--------------------------------   


In the bathroom, Sarah splashed water on her face and tried to wake up fully. As she dried her face with a towel, she heard the beep of the microwave.

She walked into the living room to see that Jareth was making tea and when he brought one of the cups to her, she gave him a grateful smile.

"Oh, thank you so much," she said, taking a sip.

Jareth motioned toward the sofa.

"Please, sit down," he said, "I want to talk with you."

He sounded so serious, she thought. Sarah bit her lip for a moment and then silently sank down on the sofa and waited. 

"I have no gift to give you in return for your present to me," Jareth said. 

"Well, that's okay, you don't have to...," Sarah started and then stopped as Jareth lifted an eyebrow.

"However," he continued, "in exchange, I would like to answer your question now. The one that I originally refused to answer."

"What question?" she asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Jareth sat next to her and took a deep breath.

"You asked if I had loved any of the women that I have known," Jareth said quietly. 

"Oh," Sarah breathed. She'd forgotten about that.

"I have not loved them," he continued. "However, I did ask one of them to marry me."   


Sarah's eyes widened and she went perfectly still.

"When I first became king, it was understood that I would require a wife and children. And so I began to consider the most eligible of the various princesses and grand duchesses. After careful consideration, I made my choice and approached the woman and began courting her," Jareth paused and shook his head slightly at the memory.   


"Initially, I thought things were going quite well. She enjoyed my company and I hers. We spent a great deal of time together and I believed that we were well suited to one another. Eventually, I asked that she become my wife." Jareth's eyes shuttered at the memory.   


"The look of aversion that crossed her face was fleeting but very clear. She had the good grace to attempt to conceal it, but it was too late. I had already seen. At that point in my life, I was still very naive in many respects." His mouth curved in a cold smile. "I actually asked why the idea seemed so distasteful to her.   


"She explained that becoming the Queen of the Goblins would cause her position in society to suffer and she could not allow that to happen. Our time spent together was pleasant, but surely I had not expected her to consider marriage.   


"I was...upset," Jareth said tonelessly, "and I ended my courtship of her immediately. As I soon learned, each of the women I approached thereafter had the same view of any relationship with me.   


"They expected a great deal." Jareth paused and contempt colored his voice. "They certainly were willing to _take_ a great deal. But in the end, each of them regarded any serious liaison with me as pointless. Ruling over the goblins was a disadvantage that they had no intention of enduring."   


Sarah reached out and carefully placed her hand on his arm. When he tensed, she curled her fingers and squeezed his arm lightly, but she didn't take her hand away.   


"I can't imagine any..." Sarah's throat tightened as he met her eyes and she stopped abruptly. "I can't imagine anyone being so cruel," she finally said.   


"Women are cruel, Sarah," Jareth answered. His voice was cool, but there was pain in his eyes that he was carefully trying to keep hidden. "Cruelty is a part of their nature."   


"Not all of them," she said, shaking her head. "Not like that."   


He glanced down at her hand on his arm. "Perhaps," he said softly. "Perhaps."

"Jareth," Sarah began, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Not now," he said firmly. "Let's not talk about this further."

Hesitating, Sarah nodded and forced a quick smile. "Okay, well, I'll start working on dinner, then."  


--------------------------------   
  
Her hands on autopilot, Sarah made the piecrust for the apple pie. She formed it into a ball and placed the plastic-wrap covered bowl in the refrigerator to let the dough to chill. She began washing the apples while her mind wandered back to the conversation she'd just had with Jareth.   


Before she'd managed to stop herself, she had almost said, "I can't imagine any woman not wanting to marry you."   


The implications of that quickly stifled observation staggered her.   


Because she had _meant_ it. 

Sarah stared blindly at apple in her hands. Was it possible that she... Could she really...  


She turned slowly and looked at Jareth. He was once again intently examining the sketch, a pleased expression on his face.

An image from her dream bloomed in Sarah's mind--an image of a childhood music box, and a brunette woman whirling in the arms of a blond man. That image dissolved into the memory of dancing with Jareth, the feel of his mouth on hers, and the look in his eyes as he recounted being used time and time again.

Sarah's breath caught in her throat.  


Oh, god. She loved him, she realized. Somewhere along the way, she had actually fallen in love with Jareth. Not the romantic figure from her drugged dream, and not the magical king who had dazzled her as a young girl, but with _Jareth_.   


The apple slipped through her fingers as Sarah slumped forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the sink and covered her face with her hands.   


He was vain and egotistical, arrogant and stubborn, and entirely too exasperating and frustrating.   


But, god help her, she loved him.   


--------------------------------   



	13. In Vino Veritas

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.   
  
Additional Author's Note: This chapter is very affectionately dedicated to every reader who has commented on my tendency to end chapters at a cliffhanger.

--------------------------------   


Sarah flinched when she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. Peeking out through her fingers, she saw Jareth.   


"Is something wrong?" he asked, puzzled.   


At seeing him standing so close, Sarah jumped back, dropping her hands from her face. Her breath rapidly hitched in her lungs once, twice, a third time but showed no signs of slowing. She struggled to bring her breathing under control and failed.

Jareth grasped her by the arms. "Sarah? Are you ill?"

"I think," she gasped between breaths, "I think..."

Black dots swam before her eyes and the sudden fear that she was going to pass out stabbed at her. Alarmed, she broke away from Jareth. Grabbing the paper bag that had held the apples, she began to breathe into it. After a few moments, her breathing came under control. 

Embarrassed, Sarah tossed the bag onto the counter and glanced at Jareth. He was obviously confused and...was that concern she saw? Her eyes quickly slid away from his.

"I couldn't seem to stop," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I've never done that before."

"What happened?" he demanded.

"I was hyperventilating."

"And that means?"  
  
"It's when you breathe way too fast. It can be a caused by a..." her voice trailed off. Had she really been having a panic attack? She never had one before. But then, she'd never had the shocking realization that she was in love with the Goblin King before, either.

"I just got a little overwhelmed," she finally said. "The holiday and...everything." She waved her hand vaguely.

"Why were you breathing into that bag?" he asked, frowning. "That is an odd thing to do."

Sarah laughed weakly. "It corrects the amount of carbon dioxide in my blood," she answered. At his confused expression, she just shook her hand. "It doesn't matter. I'm fine now."

Jareth gave her a disbelieving look. "You are overly tired. In the past few days, you have slept little. These naps you have taken are not helping you to rest." 

"I'll be fine," Sarah insisted. "I'll make dinner and everything will be okay."

He arched an eyebrow. "The meal is unimportant," he said mildly.

"No," she shook her head. "It's Christmas and we'll have Christmas dinner."

She could hear shrillness creeping into her voice and she grimaced. He didn't seem to understand that this was the last Christmas dinner she would have. He was wrong, it was important.

"Then I shall assist you in preparing the meal," he said.

Her eyebrows shot up. "You don't even wash dishes. How are you going to help?"

"You will instruct me," Jareth said simply.

Astonished, her mouth dropped open. The thought of teaching Jareth to cook threatened to send her back into hyperventilation.

"No," she shook her head. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but it would be easier if I did it myself. You go read and I'll make dinner."

"Is there going to be a repeat of this hyper... hyper...?" Jareth made a frustrated gesture.

Sarah flushed. "I don't think so."

His eyes narrowed and he looked her over carefully before nodding reluctantly.

She let out a sigh of relief when he returned to the sofa and picked up his book.

--------------------------------   


Sarah sat at the dining table, peeling apples for the pie and stealing little glances at Jareth as he sat, absorbed in reading. How had it happened? How had she fallen in love with him?

'Don't be stupid,' her mind sneered. 'You've been half in love with him since you were 15 years old. All you've done is taken the last few steps toward the inevitable.'

She frowned suddenly. What would happen to her when they went back to the Underground? 

_You have no power over me._

It had barely been true when she first spoke those words and it certainly wasn't true any longer. She was entirely too vulnerable now. What would life be like there for a woman in love with a king? A king who didn't love her in return.

Sarah closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to rise. She drew in a shuddering breath and opened her eyes to find Jareth silently watching her. She quickly looked down and concentrated on peeling the apples.

--------------------------------   


Jareth had been keeping surreptitious watch over Sarah while she worked at the dining table. Her earlier ailment concerned him greatly. But, he supposed it was only natural that he would be worried, she was the key to returning to the Underground and he certainly didn't want her to become ill.

He glanced up from his book and saw that she was sitting with her eyes closed and a melancholy expression on her face. He had hoped that this holiday would not be painful for her. Her earlier mood had been so buoyant and he wasn't certain what had caused it to change.

As he watched, Sarah opened her eyes. When she met his gaze, he had a split second to recognize an almost despairing look flash through her eyes before they lowered again.

Enough, he thought. He laid his book aside and walked to the dining table. When she didn't look up, he reached out and stole a slice of apple from the bowl. As he'd known it would, it got her attention.

"Hey," she exclaimed, her head jerking up. "If you eat all the apples, I won't have enough for a pie."

"One slice will surely not effect the outcome." He smiled and took a bite. 

She smiled faintly. "I used to do that."

He sat across from her and arched an eyebrow.

"Steal slices of apple," she explained. "And that's exactly what my grandmother would say. 'If you eat all the apples, I won't have enough for a pie'."

"Tell me of your grandparents," he said.

"There's not a lot to tell. They were my dad's parents," Sarah said, continuing to slice the apples. "My grandfather was in the army during World War II..."

"World War II?" Jareth interrupted.

Sarah shook her head. "I'll explain all that some other time. Anyway, he met my grandmother when he was stationed briefly in Georgia." Sarah glanced at Jareth, "A far away province."

"And they married."

"Yes, and when he came home from the war, she moved to Connecticut with him. They bought this place to use on vacation and after my grandmother died, Grandpa sold the house and moved here."

"He lived here alone?" Jareth finished eating the slice of apple.

Sarah nodded. "He said that he couldn't stand to keep their house in Connecticut. Too many memories."

"You said that your grandmother particularly enjoyed this holiday, also," Jareth recalled.

Sarah smiled. "Oh, yeah. She always had decorations everywhere. Her family was so poor when she was a girl that they couldn't really afford to celebrate Christmas. I think she was trying to make up for all the years that she didn't have much of a holiday." Sarah laid down the knife. "Would you like to see a picture of my grandparents?"

Jareth nodded. 

Sarah wiped her hands on a dishcloth and went into her bedroom. When she returned, she carried a framed photograph. She handed it to Jareth and he examined it. A tall, sandy-haired young man wearing a military uniform and a wide smile stood with his arm proudly around the waist of dark-haired young woman. The woman, smiling shyly out at the viewer, wore a light-colored suit and carried a small bouquet of flowers.

"This is their wedding picture," Sarah said.

"They were a handsome couple. Your grandmother was a beautiful woman," Jareth said. He looked from the photograph to Sarah. "You bear a striking resemblance to her."

As he watched, Sarah colored slightly. "Thank you," she said softly.

"We should have a wedding portrait done," Jareth said thoughtfully. "If you do not want to paint it yourself, you can audition artists and select the one you wish." 

Sarah sat down and began slicing the apples once again. She said nothing for a moment and then asked, "Would you want a wedding portrait? It's not like you have much choice in all this. You just got stuck with me."

"Perhaps we have been forced together," Jareth admitted. "But that does not mean that our marriage has to be unpleasant." 

Sarah took a deep breath. "What do you want from this marriage? From me? I mean, besides children. What do you want?"

"Want?" he asked blankly. What was she asking?

"Yeah, do you just want someone to look pretty and be a hostess? Do you expect us to live separate lives until it's time to have another child? Or do you want an actual wife?"

He was taken aback for a moment. He had always considered children to be the primary purpose of marriage. He had never actually thought beyond that point. 

"I suppose," Jareth said slowly, "that I would like a friend."

Sarah met his eyes and he was surprised by the sudden glimmer of hope he found there. 

"Me, too," she said softly.

--------------------------------   


Sarah began to prepare the chicken and huffed out an annoyed sigh when she realized that she was out of tarragon. In the storeroom, she located an extra container of the spice but, turning back toward the door, hesitated. After a moment's contemplation, she found the sack containing the wine and pulled out the Chardonnay. It would go well with the meal and she knew that there were wineglasses in the cabinet. Besides, she had to tell Jareth the truth in the morning. One way or the other, she would be leaving here, so it was a shame to let the wine go to waste.

At the door, she stopped again as an icy feeling of dread swept over her. She had to tell Jareth the _truth_ in the morning.

On second thought, she went back and picked up the champagne and pinot noir, too. She decided to have at least one glass of each tonight and try to forget what she had to do tomorrow.

--------------------------------   


While the chicken finished roasting, Sarah took a quick shower and then, in her bedroom, she rummaged through her tiny supply of cosmetics. At the time, she hadn't even been aware that she'd packed them. Apparently, she'd simply dumped the entire contents of her bathroom drawer into her suitcase. She gave a shudder at the memory of that fearful trip out of New York. 

But tonight was a special occasion and she wanted to make an additional effort to look nice. A little blush, a touch of eye makeup and a quick slick of lipstick gave her a face a bit of extra color. She got dressed and then brushed her hair out. 

A small voice in her mind jeered at her reason for taking this extra care in her appearance. 'Special occasion,' it scoffed. 'You want to look nice for _Jareth_.'

"It's Christmas," Sarah murmured aloud, examining her makeup in the mirror. "That's all."

And in her mind, that little voice laughed and laughed.

--------------------------------   


Sarah checked the timer and removed the chicken from the oven. Everything else was ready, but the chicken needed to stand a few minutes before being carved. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that everything was in place on the dining table. While searching the cabinet for wineglasses, she had found her grandmother's crystal candleholders. It had taken her a little longer to find candles that would fit them, but she'd finally located a box of tapers pushed to the back of the junk drawer.

She found the corkscrew and took the Chardonnay from the refrigerator where she had allowed it to chill. When she turned around, Jareth was standing beside the oven.

"It smells wonderful," he said. His eyes widened as he took in her appearance and he smiled. "You look very nice tonight."

"Thank you, um, can you work one of these things?" she asked, holding up the corkscrew. "They never work for me."

Jareth took the implement from her hand and, smirking slightly, deftly opened the bottle.

Sarah shook her head wry appreciation. "If you ever give up being the King of the Goblins, you can always become a sommelier."

He grinned and gave a slight bow. "Shall I pour the wine, then, madam?"

"Yes, please, and light the candles," she smiled.

When Sarah placed their prepared plates on the table, Jareth held her chair for her and then took his seat.

After complimenting Sarah on the meal, they ate in silence for a few moments before Sarah spoke.

"What happens when you get your magic back? Are you going to..." her voice trailed away as she struggled to find the words she wanted to say.

"Am I going to what?" Jareth prompted, taking a sip of wine.

"You've been nice to me," she said finally. "You weren't when you first got here and you weren't when I met you before. Is everything going to change when you--when _we_--go back?"

"I did not know you then," he replied. "When we first encountered each other, you were my opponent and I acted accordingly." He hesitated, "And when I arrived here, I was confused about the circumstances. I still am, but I have come to understand that you are no longer my adversary."

"You know that we're still going to argue, right?" she said slowly.

"Now? About what?" Jareth looked surprised.

"I mean when we get married," she smiled slightly. "We're going to argue."

"Sarah, I would expect no less from you." He laughed.

"Well," a teasing light came into her eyes. "You have to promise that when you get really angry with me, you won't send me to the Bog."

"Now why would I make a promise like that?" Jareth smirked. "It sounds like the perfect threat to keep a recalcitrant wife in line."

"Because sooner or later, you'd either have to put up or shut up. And I know you; you'd do it. I'm warning you now, if I end up permanently stinky, I will follow every step you take for the rest of your life. If I have to smell it, _you_ have to smell it."

"Ah, well, if I have to suffer, I suppose that's reason enough not to do it," he grinned. "So, no sending you to the Bog." 

Sarah's smile faded and she glanced down. "What _will_ happen, then? I mean, seriously, if we have an argument are you just going to, poof, vanish? Or get mad at me and send me someplace else? Are there rules for that kind of thing? I'm not going to end up in an oubliette, am I?"

"You will have your own magic, don't forget. Even if I were to send you to an oubliette, you would soon be out of it," he reminded her. "There are no specific rules, I would assume that each couple must decide those things amongst themselves."

Sarah nodded. "Well, no zapping me away if we're arguing. And no poofing away either."

Jareth laughed. "Your terminology needs a bit of work, but I get the gist of what you are trying to say--no fleeing from arguments. But you must agree to the same terms."

"Okay," she said. "When we argue, we have to stay and talk it out."

"Agreed," he nodded.

--------------------------------   


After dinner, after the apple pie had been eaten and complimented, and the dishes washed and put away, Sarah took out two new wineglasses. She briefly wished that her grandmother had invested in champagne flutes, but you couldn't have everything, she thought. The champagne didn't require a corkscrew to open and so she wrapped a dishtowel around the cork, held it firmly in place and twisted the bottle gently. 

Jareth had just finished rebuilding the fire when he heard the subdued pop from the kitchen.

In a moment, Sarah walked into the living room carrying two glasses of wine twined through her fingers and a bottle of champagne in the other hand.

"Champagne?" she asked with a smile, holding out the glasses to him.

"Are we celebrating?" he inquired. He carefully extricated one of the glasses and held it up, admiring the tiny streams of bubbles rushing along the sides.

"It's Christmas, that's enough reason to celebrate," she replied. She placed the champagne bottle on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, drawing one leg underneath her.

Abruptly, Sarah asked, "Do you like being the Goblin King?"  


Surprised at her question, Jareth sat next to her, angling his body to face her.

"I have never thought of it in that fashion," he said slowly. "It is my responsibility. If I had a choice, I would not perform certain duties that are required of me, such as taking children who have been wished away. But I enjoy the power of the position and, at any rate, I was not given a choice. I must rule the goblins to the best of my ability." 

"I'm still not sure I understand why solving the Labyrinth was supposed to be some indication of whether I was supposed to marry you," Sarah asked. "I mean, what if I'd been nine instead of fifteen?"

"A girl too young to marry would be too young to solve the Labyrinth," Jareth explained. "As it was, while you were physically mature enough to wed, you were not mentally ready to become a wife." 

"You know that I'm not going to be able to help you with distracting people who run the Labyrinth. I don't think I could go out and be all flirty with some guy who was trying to get a child back. I just don't think I could do that," she said softly.

"That will never be part of your duties. Distracting those within the Labyrinth is my obligation alone to bear," Jareth said. His mouth quirked in a quickly suppressed smile. "And I was not 'all flirty'."

"Yes, you were. You were definitely flirty." Sarah grinned.

"I was _seductive_," Jareth clarified, finally giving in and smiling.

"No," Sarah shook her head and spoke before she thought. "_You_ were flirty. Your _pants_ were seductive."

Embarrassed, her hand flew to her mouth and she blushed.

Jareth laughed with obvious delight. "Sarah, how much wine have you had? I believe you are intoxicated."

"I don't drink very often. I'm not intoxicated, but I am very relaxed. Maybe a little too relaxed," she admitted, chagrined.

"I have wondered. Were you tempted in the least to accept my offer?" Jareth asked quietly.

"Are you kidding? Of course, I was." She hesitated and looked down into her wineglass. "I wasn't the most popular girl at school. Boys didn't really seem to notice me and I don't guess I was ready for them to. But to suddenly be the focus off all that attention from somebody like you? It was overwhelming." She stole a glance up at him. "I didn't know how to deal with it. I didn't know how to deal with _you_. Not... Not on that level."

She drained her glass and Jareth lifted the champagne bottle questioningly. Her head tilted in contemplation for a moment and then she leaned forward, holding out her glass.

"Sure," she said. "Why not?"

He refilled her glass and she settled back onto the sofa.

--------------------------------   


Jareth was talking, but Sarah wasn't listening closely. Instead, with the sound of his crisp voice rising and falling in her ears, she simply _looked_ at him. The way the flickering firelight wove through his hair transformed it into a shimmering cascade of spun silver and gold. She remembered how soft it felt in her hands when she'd dried it for him and, unconsciously, her fingers stroked gently over the fabric of the sofa.

Her attention drifted to his mouth and she gave a wistful little sigh. Pale rose lips parted as he lifted his wineglass, giving her a glimpse of sharp white teeth. Her eyes lowered to his fingers as they held the stem of the glass. Even encased in gloves, it was clear that they were long and perfectly formed.

She nibbled her bottom lip as her gaze flicked up and took in those achingly high cheekbones, the skin over them fine as porcelain. Jareth took a sip of wine and delicate eyelids fluttered closed over enticingly mismatched eyes.

Sarah had heard stories claiming that the fae were actually fallen angels, too proud and haughty to remain in heaven but not deemed wicked enough to be cast down into hell. Looking at Jareth now, she had no difficulty believing that it might be true; he was absolutely glorious and yet his beauty held an underlying darkness that fit those tales completely.

She knew that this was dangerous thing to be doing, particularly in her current state. While she wasn't drunk, she was very definitely tipsy, and her inhibitions regarding certain types of behavior were becoming more distant with each sip of champagne.

Before the wine, pushing Jareth down onto the sofa and straddling his lap was unacceptable behavior. Now, however, it sounded like a marvelous idea.

As his glass lowered, their eyes met and she saw with a shock that his were twinkling with knowing amusement.

She'd been caught.

Sarah swallowed hard and placed her glass firmly on the coffee table. No more wine for her. In fact, the smartest thing she could do now was beat a hasty retreat.

Rising a bit unsteadily, she gestured vaguely toward her room. "I think I'd better go to bed. Goodnight."

"Retiring so early?" Jareth's voice held just the slightest mocking edge.

Sarah shot him a wry glance. "I think that would be best."

She made it to her bedroom door before the thought that she had been pushing to the back of her mind all evening finally slammed into her full force. 

Tomorrow Jareth would know the truth. Everything that happened thereafter would be tainted by it.

Sarah paused, hand on the doorknob, and then walked back to him.

"Jareth?" She hated the way her voice broke. "There's something I want to know."

"Yes?" He looked up at her, waiting.

She gave a strangled laugh. She was standing; he was sitting. That wasn't going to work.

"You, um, have to stand up," she said.

Looking slightly puzzled, he rose and she walked close to him. 

Hesitating only a second, she raising a shaking hand to place it lightly on his chest and watched as comprehension flared in his eyes.

"What would it have been like if it had been more than sympathy?" she murmured.

He gave a slow smile and stepped into her, almost but not quite touching her. Sarah's eyes slid closed as he leaned forward and brushed his mouth against hers softly once and then again more firmly.

His arms came around her then, gently pulling her against him. His mouth covered hers, his tongue brushing against her lips, and she parted them at this encouragement. When his tongue slid into her mouth to tease against hers, her arms slipped around his neck.

His mouth tasted of champagne and he kissed her leisurely, as unhurried as if he had all the time in the world. When her arms tightened around his neck, he deepened the kiss and then broke it, only to claim her lips from a slightly different angle. His mouth became more demanding and one hand came up to cradle her head while the other moved to the small of her back, urging her hips forward to press more intimately against his.

When she felt him, already beginning to grow erect, she unwittingly moaned into his mouth and he responded instantly, the kiss becoming harder and more passionate. It was only when his hand came up to brush against her breast, and she instinctively arched into him, that Sarah finally came to her senses. They had to stop. Now.

She broke away from him, trembling and wide-eyed, and she stumbled back a little, gasping for breath.

"I think... I think I need to go to bed now," she said, breathlessly.

Jareth was suddenly looking at her as if she were a particularly tempting treat on a dessert tray and, at her words, he grinned.

Sarah flushed. "I mean, goodnight."

She turned and quickly went to her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and tried to convince herself that she hadn't been running.

--------------------------------   


Jareth smiled as he prepared for bed. He hadn't failed to notice the makeup that Sarah had been wearing. He had no doubt that it had been for his benefit, and her almost impudent manner throughout the evening had been most alluring. If this was the effect that wine had on Sarah, he would make certain that champagne was served each night in their bedchamber.

And then there had been the kiss. While it had definitely been erotic, it had been strangely comforting to hold her in his arms. His body had protested when she left, but his amusement over the haste with which she fled had outweighed any discomfort he felt. She would be his soon enough. Her hungry appraisal of him when she had thought he wasn't paying attention guaranteed it. While she continued to struggle against the attraction between them, her resistance was melting away.

As he reached to turn out the bedside lamp, he once again picked up the sketch she had given him. First honey cakes for breakfast and then the gift of this sketch. He couldn't recall the last time that anyone had given him two gifts in one day, and, other than his parents, no one had ever giving him a gift without expecting something in return. Sarah had turned out to be a very surprising woman. Having her in his life everyday promised to be quite enjoyable.

Giving the sketch one last glance, Jareth set it aside and turned off the lamp. He settled down into bed and slipped into sleep.

And into a dream.

He was standing in the living room of the cabin, clad only in his sleeping attire. The room seemed to be exactly as it had been when he had retired. The fire crackled quietly in the fireplace and the empty wineglasses still stood on the coffee table that he had moved against the wall. A quick glance confirmed that Sarah's bedroom door remained closed.

As Jareth looked around the room, the silent voice of the Labyrinth suddenly echoed through his mind.

"You must bring her to us. We remain incomplete."

-------------------------------- 


	14. For Everything, A Price

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.   


--------------------------------   
  
Jareth awoke with a start, sitting up abruptly. Had it merely been a dream or was it possible that the Labyrinth...

"We remain incomplete," the Labyrinth reproached.

Jareth immediately reached out with his mind. The link to the Underground was almost within his grasp, but remained frustratingly elusive.

"Return my magic," Jareth demanded.

"You must fulfill our bargain," the Labyrinth replied.

"What bargain?" Jareth asked irritably. "Return my magic."

"We offered the girl what she desires most in exchange for her willing return to us. She accepted," the Labyrinth's voice had taken on an almost singsong quality in his mind. "You must fulfill our bargain."

"What she desires most?" Jareth repeated slowly. Bitter comprehension followed closely on the heels of confusion. "And so you sent _me_ here. You trapped me in a world in which I almost died because of a bargain you made with Sarah? Is that correct?" His voice had gone flat.

"You must fulfill our bargain and return the girl to us. We remain incomplete."

Jareth clenched his jaw, anger sweeping through him. There was a deeper, more painful emotion underlying his fury, but he deliberately pushed it away, concentrating solely on his ire.

He pushed the bedcovers back and turned on the bedside lamp. As he rose from the bed, his eyes fell on the drawing Sarah had given him as a gift. He picked it up and looked at it blankly for a moment.

Gift. He snorted derisively. Bribe was more accurate. Again, that hurtful emotion reared up and he choked slightly as a bitter taste flooded the back of his throat. With a vicious gesture, he threw the sketch across the room. It struck the wall with a crash, gouging a jagged scar in the paneling before falling to the floor, the glass shattering in the frame.

At that destructive act, an unnatural calm settled over him. He glanced at Sarah's closed bedroom door. So, for all her pretensions, all her _gifts_, she was no different than the others.

A cruel smile suddenly forming on his lips, Jareth walked toward her bedroom door.

It seemed that he had a job to do.

--------------------------------   


Sarah groggily raised her head. Had she been dreaming or had she heard something break? She listened for a bit and, hearing nothing, sank back down into the pillow with a sigh. She had just drifted into that pleasantly detached place between sleep and consciousness when she felt the bed dip on one side.

She looked up to see Jareth sitting on the edge of her bed. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

When he didn't answer, she reached out to turn on the lamp beside her bed. He grasped her hand, stilling her movements.

"Are you sick?" she asked, confused.

Jareth still didn't reply; he simply shifted further onto the bed and lifted her wrist to his lips. 

Sarah blinked in surprise as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the inside of her wrist, his tongue darting out to delicately lick the skin there.

"Ja--Jareth?" she stammered. 

"Shh," he admonished, leaning over her and then his lips were on hers. She gasped and his tongue slipped into her mouth to deliberately brush against hers and the kiss quickly deepened.

It vaguely occurred to her that Jareth shouldn't be in her room like this, but her head was fuzzy from the wine and she just couldn't seem to make herself care. What he was doing felt too wonderful.

During the kiss, Jareth moved completely onto the bed to lie beside her and that first kiss quickly blended into another and another and another until Sarah's heart was pounding and a dull ache was moving through her body.

By the time his mouth lowered to her neck, her breath was coming in shallow pants. Jareth's hand cupped her breast through her T-shirt, his thumb lazily circling the taut peak before sweeping over it with delicious friction. The ache she felt quickly became a sharp throbbing.

She knew she should stop him, but her body was screaming with need and she was so tired of fighting this. What did it matter, really? They were going to be married. Sleeping with Jareth was inevitable, wasn't it?

But she had to tell him the truth before anything else happened between them. He deserved the truth.

"Jareth, I need to..." Sarah paused, trying to get her breathing under some semblance of control. "There's something you should know." She gave a shaky little laugh. "Actually, there are two things you should know."

He suddenly bit down on her neck while his hand continued its pleasurable stroking of her breast. Surprised, she hissed both at the tiny pain and at the shocking heat that it caused to flash through her. His tongue immediately flicked out to soothe the sting away.

"I know everything that I need to know," Jareth said.

His voice sounds so odd, she thought. So remote.

"No, actually, you don't," Sarah said. She forced herself to concentrate on what she had to say, and pushed slightly against his shoulders to get his attention.

In one swift motion, Jareth grasped her wrists and pressed them over her head against the headboard. Holding them in place with one hand, his free hand returned to her breast.

"I know that you desire me," he said, tweaking her nipple gently.

She inhaled sharply.

"But..." she tried to say.

"You think you know about desire? You know nothing. But I will teach you. I promise that you will learn." Jareth's voice grew progressively colder and by the time he spoke the last sentence, it sounded nothing like an assurance and everything like a threat.

That's when she realized that he was angry.

"What's wrong?" she demanded. "Why are you mad?"

"It's time to stop pretending, Sarah. Stop pretending that you don't want this," he breathed into her ear.

She shook her head, frowning. "Not like this, not with you so angry. Are you mad at me?"

He acted as if he didn't hear her, his mouth moving lower, sending trails of fire along her skin and, involuntarily, she shivered. At that, he lifted his head and raked her with a predatory glance before covering her mouth with his.

This kiss was different than any other he had given her. It was punishing, almost brutal, and she turned her head to the side, breaking the kiss abruptly. She tried to pull her hands free, but he wouldn't release her.

"Let me go," she demanded. He hesitated for a split second, but then loosened his grip on her hands and she wrenched them free, scrambling off the other side of the bed. She fought to stop trembling and placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Jareth. 

"What is wrong with you? What do you think you're doing?" she cried. He'd never treated her like this before, what was going on?

Jareth rose to face her, the bed stretching out between them.

Seeing the icy expression on his face, her confusion increased. Jareth wasn't just angry, he was furious.

"I am merely doing what I have to do in order that I may go home," he sneered. "That was the price you agreed upon, wasn't it, Sarah? What you desire most?"

She froze at his words and her mouth went dry.

"Wh--what?" she stuttered.

"Don't bother trying to play the innocent." His voice lashed out like a whip. "It is far too late."

"Jareth, please," she implored, "I was going to tell you in the morning. I just wanted one last Christmas here before I had to go back. I swear I didn't even know that it was _real_. I thought it was all a dream. It was just a voice in a _dream_. It never even said what it was that I..."

Her voice trailed away at his unyielding expression and her heart sank. He obviously didn't believe her.

"Desired, Sarah?" he finished her sentence, his tone mocking. "After painting my portrait time and time again, do you expect me to believe that you were so naïve that you had no idea what it was that you were bargaining with the Labyrinth for?"

"I didn't know," she insisted. "I told you, it was just a voice in a dream. It said it would give me..." She closed her eyes briefly, she couldn't bring herself to say it. "I didn't know what that _was_, but the voice said that _it_ knew. I thought it was just my subconscious playing games. I swear I didn't know that it was real. And until I went into the living room and found you there, I had no idea that you were... That you were..."

She twisted her fingers together and then lifted her hands slightly in a beseeching gesture. "I didn't know it would send you here," she said softly.

"I almost died, Sarah." His eyes were blazing but his voice had gone dangerously quiet. He stalked toward her.

She dropped her hands and forced herself not to back away from him.

"I almost died," he repeated relentlessly, "because you were too childish to admit what it was that you wanted from me. If you had simply told me the truth from the beginning, I would not have suffered as I did. We could have had this over with days ago."

She flinched at his words.

"You think I don't know that?" Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to be hurt."

Jareth stopped directly in front of her.

"But I was hurt. It may not have been your intent, but it was surely the result of your actions. Why did you not tell me the truth?" he demanded.

Sarah glanced away from him. "At first, I wasn't sure that you being here was really connected to my dream. And when I figured out that it was, I was... I was embarrassed," she whispered.

"That was the reason I almost died? You were _embarrassed_?" he asked, incredulous.

"There's another reason that we couldn't just..." She gestured mutely toward the bed. She glanced up at him and when she saw the disdain on his face, she shook her head. She wasn't going to tell him that. Not now.

He crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow, waiting.

She shook her head again. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. But I had already decided to tell you in the morning. And I'm so sorry that you got sick. I never meant for any of this to happen."

Tears slipped down her cheeks and she brushed them away quickly.

"Oh, are the tears intended to convince me that you are sincere? How typical," he said contemptuously. "I expected more originality from you. Something less melodramatic. But then, you always wanted to be an actress. I see now why you were unsuccessful at it."

At that, her temper began to rise. "I have explained what happened and I have apologized." She struggled to remain calm. "If you don't want to forgive me, then that's one thing, but you don't have to insult me. I'm not one of your goblins."

"No, you are not." He gave a cold smile. "They are much better liars."

Her anger flared out of control. "Fuck you," she spat out.  


His smile turned insolent. "I would choose my insults more carefully, Sarah. Particularly considering what it is that you want from me."   


She stiffened and then pushed past him.   


Jareth had expected her to slap him. He had even braced himself for it. So when she merely walked away, he was surprised. But what was more surprising was the raw pain he saw in her eyes. He expected humiliation or rage, perhaps, but not misery.  


She grabbed her jeans from the chair where they were laying, pulling them on, careless of whether or not he watched, and slipped her bare feet into the flat shoes she wore and walked out the door.   


"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, surprised.

"I'm leaving," she said sharply over her shoulder.  


He followed her into the living room and watched as she yanked on her coat.

"There is nowhere for you to go. We are trapped here," he reminded her coolly.

"I'll dig the car out with my bare hands if I have to." She grabbed her purse from the shelves.

"Even if you manage to clear the snow from the conveyance, it is doubtful that you will be able to negotiate the roadways." Jareth frowned.

"Then I'll sleep in the car but I'm not staying here," she snapped.

"And we agreed to stay and talk out any argument that we might have," Jareth said mockingly. "How soon you forget."

"That was when we were married." Sarah's lips trembled and then firmed. "Obviously, that's not happening."

With that, she wrenched open the door and went out into the freezing night, slamming the door shut behind her.

--------------------------------   


A fresh surge of anger carried Sarah through the snow and around the house to the shed to retrieve the shovel. 

"That overbearing jerk," she said loudly. "It wasn't like I wanted this to happen. Does he think that I called up the Labyrinth and said, 'Hey, I'd like to trade the _rest of my life_ for a roll in the hay with the Goblin King?' He's insane if he thinks that."

Wounded pride drove her from the shed back to the front of the cabin.

"_I _knew that I wasn't a good actress. Nobody had to tell me," she muttered. "_I _was the one who gave it up. It was _my_ choice."

Outraged indignation took her the remaining distance to the car.

'I don't care who he is, he's got no right to talk to me like that,' she thought. 'I wasn't lying and he didn't have to be insulting.'

Shaking those thoughts away, Sarah carefully used the metal shovel to clear the windshield. Once that was accomplished, she began to dig the snow away from the driver's door. It was harder than she had anticipated, but adrenaline overruled her tired muscles.

The edge of the shovel struck the car door more than once, but Sarah never even flinched. Chipped paint was trivial compared to getting out of here. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Sarah had moved enough snow to get the car door open.

Sighing with relief, she slid into the driver's seat and pulled the door closed behind her. She placed the key in the ignition and switched it on. Sarah sent up a silent prayer of thanks when the engine turned over promptly, and she turned on the defroster to finish clearing the windshield.

She slumped back against the seat, shivering. She stared blindly ahead for a few seconds, listening to the rush of the air through the defroster and the soft hum of the engine.

'He thinks I'm one of those women," she thought. The words became an unwanted chorus chanted to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Jareth believed that she was like the fae women who only wanted to use him. 

'Well, wasn't that exactly what you were about to do just a few minutes ago?' her mind taunted.

"No," she whispered aloud, shaking her head. She wanted him, yes, but she loved him, too. However, she certainly couldn't admit that to him. He wouldn't believe her anyway. She'd be lucky if he ever again believed anything she said.

"We could have had this over with days ago."

Sarah bowed her head and pain slashed through her heart. Was that how Jareth viewed the prospect of being intimate with her? As a distasteful chore to be gotten out of the way? She suddenly felt sick at her stomach.

Her throat tightened as another horrifying realization slipped into her mind. Jareth knew the truth and he yet still didn't have his magic back. Apparently, then, Labyrinth wouldn't consider that it had lived up to its part of their bargain until she and Jareth had actually had sex.

The irony of the situation was almost laughable. Almost. Instead, Sarah buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

When her tears had finally tapered off into sniffling hiccups, Sarah took a deep breath. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't run away from this and she couldn't simply leave Jareth here alone. While she hadn't meant to, she had caused this mess and she had to try to fix it.

She had to go inside and face him. But she'd leave the car running. If Jareth just wanted to argue, she'd come back and spend the rest of the night in the car. She could try to talk with him again tomorrow.

Besides, now that he knew the truth, maybe he would help her figure a way out of this awful situation.

Sarah flung the door open and held onto it for balance. She'd trampled the area near the driver's door heavily and it was very slick. She maneuvered herself out of the car and took two cautious steps toward the cabin before releasing the driver's door and reaching back to push it shut.

As she leaned back, she felt an unseen force push hard against her chest. She stumbled, muttering, "What the hell?" as she awkwardly tried to remain upright on the slippery ground. Another hard shove caused her to teeter wildly before completely losing her balance. Her feet flew out from under her and Sarah fell backward. The base of her head slammed into the top edge of the car door with a sickening crack.

A bright, searing pain exploded in her head and then there was nothing.

--------------------------------   


Jareth pulled back the curtain and looked out into the moonlit night, watching as Sarah trudged through the snow toward the vehicle. He recognized the shovel in her hand. It seemed that she was serious about attempting to leave.

"We are incomplete," the Labyrinth reminded Jareth.

The curtain dropped from his hand, covering the window.

"And you will quite likely remain incomplete," Jareth snapped. 

For a moment, the Labyrinth seemed disconcerted.

"The girl is displeasing to you?" Its tone was puzzled.

"She is duplicitous," Jareth said dismissively.

The Labyrinth weighed Jareth's words before speaking. "If you find her so displeasing, we will seek a different girl."

"You were the one who insisted upon her in the first place," Jareth pointed out coldly.

"We will seek a different girl," the Labyrinth repeated.

Jareth snorted. "Your meddling has insured that I must coax Sarah back inside in order to fulfill _your_ bargain with her--a prospect that I find rather unappealing at the moment." 

Shaking his head wearily, Jareth sat on the edge of his bed and began putting on his shoes.

"We will seek a different girl." The Labyrinth repeated firmly.

"Must I remind you that you are already bound to an agreement with _this_ girl?" Jareth spat out.

The Labyrinth hesitated a long moment before answering. "Soon there will be no binding."

"What do you mean?" Jareth tilted his head, curious. "How have you resolved your agreement with her?"

The Labyrinth was silent.

"If you have come to some sort of arrangement with Sarah, then return my magic and I shall leave this place," Jareth said irritably.

"Soon," the Labyrinth soothed.

"Why must I wait?" Jareth demanded imperiously.

The Labyrinth said nothing.

Silence stretched out within the cabin, broken only by the muted crackle of the fire. Finally, Jareth could stand it no longer.

"What, exactly, was your initial bargain with Sarah?" he asked.

"She agreed to return to us in exchange for what she desires most," the Labyrinth answered.

"She claims that she did not know what it was that she desired," Jareth said, his tone noncommittal.

"We know what she desires most," the Labyrinth replied. "We know her dreams." 

Anger flared brightly within Jareth again. "Ah, yes," he said derisively, "her little erotic fantasies."

Jareth crossed back to the window. He pulled back the curtain and looked out into the night again. His view of the car was partially obstructed by trees, but he could see that Sarah had managed to clear the snow away from the driver's door and the windshield. The door was standing open, the headlights were on and the car's interior was bathed in light. Jareth could see into the vehicle quite clearly, but it appeared empty. He looked around, but could not see Sarah anywhere.

Jareth shifted at the window, unease beginning to prickle in the back of his mind.

There were only three ways in which the Labyrinth could be released from its bargain with her...

The night seemed eerily still.

...fulfill it completely...

Why was nothing moving?

...offer her an acceptable alternative...

Where was Sarah?

...or...

Icy understanding suddenly washed over him. He knew the Labyrinth could be ruthless but surely it would not go so far.

Jareth snatched up his coat and shrugged into it even as he opened the cabin door. Once outside, the snow immediately soaked through his sleeping attire, but he ignored the sodden fabric and moved resolutely toward the car. The closer he drew to the vehicle, the greater his apprehension grew and the slower it seemed that he was moving.

When he finally arrived at the car, there was a painful tightening in his chest as his fears were confirmed.

Sarah lay on the ground, unconscious. The moonlight leached the color from the scene, rendering her in stark black and white. Her face was as pale as the snow surrounding her and the blood pooling beneath her head blended into the outspread darkness of her hair.

Biting back a curse, Jareth carefully picked her up, cradling her in his arms, and turned back toward the cabin. His journey was hampered by the awkward gait necessary to navigate the deep snow and by Sarah's weight in his arms.

Once inside the cabin, he laid her gently on his bed and sat beside her. His arms, chest and hands were sticky with her blood and he lifted her head slightly, seeking the wound. His jaw clenched when he felt the ragged tear in her scalp, but worse, he felt a depression in the bone where none should have been.

"Restore my magic so that I may heal her," Jareth demanded. He brushed Sarah's hair away from her face and shuddered as the blood staining his hands smeared across her cheek.

He could feel the Labyrinth within his mind, but it refused to answer.

"I cannot heal her without magic," Jareth's voice began to rise.

The Labyrinth hesitated.

Sarah's lips were now tinged blue and the blood that had been gushing from her injured head was slowing to a trickle. Her chest rose and fell in gasping breaths and Jareth pressed his fingers to her throat. Her pulse was weak and uneven, barely fluttering against his fingertips.

"I must have my magic," he snarled through gritted teeth.

Sarah abruptly stiffened on the bed, her body going into convulsions. Jareth gathered her into his arms, attempting to hold her still. Her eyes opened, but immediately rolled back in her head and her breath became a harsh rattle deep in her throat.

"She is dying." Desperation crept into Jareth's voice. "Return my magic." 

"Soon," the Labyrinth whispered.

"Not soon, _now_," Jareth's voice rose higher.

"We will seek a different girl." The Labyrinth's voice had taken on a consoling tone.

"I do not want a different girl," Jareth shouted. "I want _this_ girl. I love her."  


The words burst out before he even knew what he was going to say. But some shocked part of his mind marveled that they were true.

He did love her.

With the sound of the last syllables of his admission still hanging in the air, Jareth felt the Labyrinth preen.

"The bargain is complete," it said, self-satisfaction flooding its voice.

Jareth stiffened slightly as magic flowed back into his body and he closed his eyes briefly and relaxed as he felt his power restored. His eyes flew open with a smile and he laid his hand upon Sarah's forehead.

At that touch, his smile faltered and then faded away.

"Sarah?" he whispered. He moved his hand to her shoulder and shook her gently. "Sarah?" he repeated a bit louder.

She didn't respond.

He'd known immediately that she wouldn't, it was too late.

Sarah was dead.

He softly stroked her blood soaked hair and wondered why all he felt was a curious numbness. All of this was wrong, he thought distantly. Sarah was not supposed to die. She was to return to the Underground. She was to be his wife. He _loved_ her. 

He could imagine the pleased expression on her face when he admitted that she had been right all along. He would not acknowledge that he was wrong, of course, even though she would tease him mercilessly. He would merely say that she was correct.

Love did exist, after all.

With that thought, the numbness that had momentarily overtaken him shattered, leaving only a terrible rage fueled by bone deep grief and pain. It was Jareth who tenderly laid Sarah back onto the bed but it was the Goblin King who rose to his feet and turned his full wrath on the Labyrinth.

"You have gone too far. Whether by design or not, you have _killed_ and I will deal with your actions later," he growled. "Sarah was to be my wife, my queen. No one--not even _you_--takes what is mine."

He felt the Labyrinth recoil in confusion.

"I want complete access to all of your power," Jareth commanded coldly.

The Labyrinth hesitated.

"If you fail me, I will not return to the Underground." Jareth's voice turned deadly. "If you force me back, I will never cooperate. Without me, you will fall into ruin and decay, and I will take a great deal of pleasure in allowing that to happen. I am your king and I will have all of your power. _Now_."

He felt the Labyrinth brush through his mind. He could feel its bewilderment. It had considered them equals and now... After a moment, Jareth felt the Labyrinth make its decision. It submitted and, for the first time, it bowed before him. 

Jareth had drawn upon the Labyrinth's power before, but never fully. Never with complete freedom. A thin barrier had always remained between them.

But no longer.

The Labyrinth threw open the ancient veil that had separated them and the enormity of power that slammed into Jareth knocked the breath from his lungs and sent him reeling. He staggered back a few steps and recovered, drawing himself up to his full height. 

He felt as if he had splintered into a thousand pieces. He could feel the heartbeats of every inhabitant of the Labyrinth and the rhythm of their breathing thrummed in his ears.

With sheer strength of will, Jareth forced those distractions aside and concentrated solely on the task before him.

Sparks flew from his fingertips as he began crafting a spell and the air in the cabin grew heavy and thick.

Reordering time was an art, one at which he was particularly adept but he had never reversed it. Moving time forward was much simpler, everything that would occur did occur, merely at an accelerated rate for everyone outside the spell. But moving backward was perilous. Every action, every thought, every birth and death in every world in every realm held the potential for change. 

But he only needed a few minutes.

With each passing second, with each word that fell from his murmuring lips, the spell took shape, forming within the crystal he now held in his hands. As the power grew, the sphere glowed brighter and when the spell within it threatened to burst forth, Jareth threw the crystal in the air. It hovered, weightless, for a split second and then exploded in an all-encompassing wave of white-hot magic.

And the earth trembled beneath his feet.

Jareth looked down at Sarah and watched as she took one hitching breath and then another. Relief swept through him so strongly that it left tears in his eyes.

He caressed the air above her and watched with satisfaction as her breathing eased, becoming even and regular, and healthy color flowed back into her body. He made a slight gesture and the blood that stained their skin and clothing vanished. He slipped a hand under her head and was pleased to find her wound completely gone.

He drew his fingers gently along her cheek and, at his touch, Sarah awoke.

Her confused eyes met his and then darted around the room, taking in her surroundings. Her eyebrows shot up and then lowered, her eyes narrowing as she regarded him suspiciously.

"What the hell just happened?" she demanded.

Jareth threw back his head and laughed.

-------------------------------- 


	15. The First Question

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie and The Hooded Crow for their support and encouragement.   


Additional Author's Note: I had intended to end this story with this chapter, but there was simply too much going on to fit it all into one chapter. Therefore, there's one last chapter following this one.  
  
This chapter refers to "The Monkey's Paw," by W. W. Jacobs. It is considered by many to be one of the great horror stories of the 20th century. If you are curious, a link to the story may be found under this chapter of The Enticement on my website.  


--------------------------------   


Jareth's euphoria and his relieved laughter over Sarah's recovery were short lived. In moments, exhaustion began to set in. Reordering time was taxing and even with the Labyrinth's huge reserves of power at his disposal, it had taken a great deal out of him. Unfortunately, along with the draining weariness, acute awareness of all the inhabitants of the Labyrinth once again rushed in on him. He had to find a way to raise the barrier that the Labyrinth usually kept between them. Without that separation, he feared being driven mad. There were too many voices, too many thoughts, too many _others_ in his mind. But he wanted to raise the barrier in such a way that he retained command of it. Never again would the Labyrinth have sole control of its power. 

Turning his attention back to Sarah, he compelled himself to focus completely on her. He tried to ignore the myriad voices that were threatening to overwhelm his mind, and the weariness seeping into his body.   


"Do you remember what happened?" Jareth asked quietly.   


She frowned slightly. "I remember getting out of the car and then something shoved me--twice--and I lost my balance and fell." Her frown deepened. "I know I hit my head because it _hurt_." She raised a hand and rubbed the back of her head gingerly. Surprised, she glanced at Jareth and sat up. "I don't have a bump on my head. It's not even sore."   


He nodded slightly. "I would ask a courtesy of you. There are many things we need to discuss but we are both tired. Go back to your room and sleep. We will talk further in the morning."   


"But something pushed me," she said, plainly confused. "What the hell shoved me? Do you know? I don't remember seeing anything."   


"I promise that we will talk in the morning," he said, tension becoming evident in his voice.   


She looked at him closely for the first time since she awoke in the cabin. "Are you okay? You look awfully pale."   


"I am fine," he said through gritted teeth. "But I am very tired."   


She swallowed hard at his tone and then stood, nodding uncertainly. "I left the car running. I'll go turn off the engine and get my keys."   


Jareth shook his head. "That is unnecessary." He concentrated and, outside, the car suddenly stopped running. He reached into his coat pocket and closed his hand around empty air. When he pulled out his hand, her keys dangled between his fingers. Silently, he held them out to her.   


"Oh, you turned it off," she said, surprised. She gave him a curious glance and took the keys from him. "I didn't think you'd know how. Thanks."   


He nodded and watched as she walked toward her bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sketch Sarah had given him lying on the floor, the glass shattered within the frame. She hadn't noticed it yet. In an instant, the sketch disappeared from the floor and reappeared, whole and undamaged, lying beside the lamp next to his bed. The fatigue he was feeling increased incrementally.   


Sarah stopped at her bedroom door and turned back to him.   


"Jareth, I'm really sorry about..." she began softly.   


"Please, Sarah," he said, his voice suddenly sharply. "No more tonight."   


She flinched and then looked away from him. "Okay," she said, nodding. Her voice was strained. "We'll talk in the morning."   


She went into her bedroom without looking at him and closed the door.   


Jareth sank down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. He had not meant to snap at her, but the voices in his mind were becoming louder and more encompassing and his lack of energy was more persistent.   


Dealing with this type of magic was unfamiliar territory and Jareth tried a number of blocking spells to no avail. Finally, a variation of a spell designed to shield the wielder from psychic attack was strong enough to protect him from the brunt of the Labyrinth's power.   


He could feel the apologetic presence of the Labyrinth itself hovering anxiously at the edges of his consciousness but he pointedly ignored it. He would deal with it when he returned to the Underground.   


As he spoke the last words of the spell, the presence of the Labyrinth inhabitants faded to an indistinct murmur. They were still there, but were easily ignored. Just as important, they were also easily called back to the front of his mind. The Labyrinth's power still surged within him, but it was now a muted hum rather than the roaring energy of before.   


Jareth removed his coat and shoes. With a gesture, his sleeping attire was dry and clean, and he stretched out on the bed. He knew that he should return to his kingdom as soon as possible, but he also knew that he would be engulfed with important demands on his time and attention the moment he returned. He and Sarah needed to work out the problems between them before they went back to the Underground. If he had revealed to Sarah that his magic had been returned, he would have been forced to explain exactly _why_ it had been returned. That was something he wanted to contemplate before talking with her.   


His unexpected and forced acknowledgement of his love for Sarah had made things awkward. He did not want her to learn of these feelings until he was completely certain that they were reciprocated. He would not needlessly place himself in a weak position. While it was apparent that Sarah certainly wanted him to love her, her feelings toward him were not as clear. Why was Sarah so convinced that sex with him was what she desired most?

These thoughts whirled around in Jareth's mind until the exhaustion claimed him and he slept.   


--------------------------------   


Sarah tossed and turned but was unable to sleep. Finally, she gave up and lay in her bed thinking about the earlier events of the evening. She couldn't understand what had caused her to fall. Something had pushed her. Hadn't it?   


Each moment that passed made her a bit more dubious of what had actually happened. She knew she had struck her head. She remembered the intense burst of pain vividly but then she remembered nothing else until she awakened lying on Jareth's bed.   


He must have found her and brought her inside. Had he gone out to try to stop her from going? Or was it to ask why it was taking her so long to leave? And if she had injured her head badly enough to lose consciousness, why was there no evidence of that injury now? Was it possible to knock yourself out and not even end up with a headache? Or had Jareth talked the Labyrinth into curing her?

The more she thought about that last idea, the more sense that it made. While she hadn't been able to convince the Labyrinth to heal Jareth when he became ill, she didn't have the same type of relationship with it that he had. He must have asked it to heal her and it had agreed.   


She'd ask Jareth exactly what had happened. He said that they'd talk in the morning, but he was acting so strangely. Before she'd gone outside, he'd been furious with her. After she woke up on his bed, he had immediately began laughing--she had no idea what _that_ had been about. Then, only a few minutes later, he'd acted annoyed with her. With his mood swings, how was she ever supposed to figure him out?   


She sighed. And obviously, the Labyrinth was talking to Jareth again. It had certainly ratted on her quickly enough. If it had only waited a few more hours, she would have told Jareth the truth herself. While he might not have taken the news any better coming from her, at least she would have had the opportunity to explain.   


A distinct feeling of guilt swept through her. She was the reason that he was stuck here. She was the reason that his kingdom was suffering. She was the reason that _he_ had suffered. No matter now many times she turned it over in her mind, there was only one sure way to fix this.   


Trying to gather her courage, she lay there until the first rays of the dawning sun began to brighten the edges of her bedroom window. Finally, she forced herself from the bed and quickly brushed her hair, all the while avoiding her own eyes in the mirror.   


Taking a deep breath, Sarah opened her door, stepped into the living room and went to Jareth's bedside. He was lying on his back, the blankets pulled up high on his chest, his breathing deep and even. He was sleeping so peacefully that she almost turned and fled but she knew that she didn't have a choice.   


This had to be done.   


Sarah carefully sat on the edge of his bed.   


"Jareth," she said softly. "Wake up."   


He shifted in the bed slightly, but otherwise didn't move.   


Sarah reached out and lightly shook his shoulder. "Jareth," she called again. "Wake up."   


This time, his eyes opened. They were hazy with sleep and he blinked a few times to clear them.   


"What do you want?" His normally crisp voice was roughened by fatigue.   


Sarah folded her hands together at her lap and wet her lips nervously. "I know you're mad at me."   


Jareth opened his mouth and Sarah shook her head quickly. "Please don't interrupt, let me finish. This is going to be hard enough to say as it is."   


Before he could speak, she continued rapidly, her eyes fixed on her fingers, which were twisting together nervously. "I'd hoped that you knowing the truth about the bargain I made with the Labyrinth would be enough to..." her voice faltered for a moment and then strengthened, "to complete it. Obviously, that didn't work.   


"The only way that I can see that we can settle this bargain is if you and I have sex." Her cheeks burned and her words came out in a tumbling rush. "It's obviously not something that you want to do, but I think we should go ahead and get it over with." Sarah stole a glance at Jareth and saw that his eyebrows had shot up in surprise. She quickly ducked her head, her hair falling forward to conceal her face.   


"Before we do that, I'd like to ask you a favor. I know that you're very angry, but this will be my first time to do this. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't deliberately make it any worse than it has to be."   


After she'd finished speaking, Sarah kept her eyes on her hands and waited for Jareth to reply.   


--------------------------------   


Jareth was still very tired and when Sarah awakened him, he felt an initial flash of anger. He had thought that he'd made it perfectly clear that they would talk in the morning. But then she made it apparent that she wasn't there to talk.   


As he'd listened to her stammering reason for waking him, his anger had turned to amazement.   


"Your first time to do this," Jareth repeated slowly.   


Sarah nodded her head slightly. Her eyes were still downcast.   


Jareth was stunned. Sarah was a virgin? It had never occurred to him that Sarah might still remain chaste. In his world, hedonism tended to be the rule rather than the exception and self-denial of pleasure was unusual. A fae woman of Sarah's physical maturity would have already taken several lovers by this point in her life.   


"You have never before been intimate with a man?" he clarified cautiously.

She shook her head, the gesture causing her hair to swing from side to side.   


Jareth sat up, wincing slightly at the weariness that still plagued him.   


"Sarah, look at me," he said quietly.   


She hesitated, but finally brought her eyes up to meet his.   


"You have had relationships with men before," he said. "Why did those relationships never progress to the point of physical intimacy?"   


"What does it matter?" she asked, frowning. "You want to go home. This is what it's going to take. Like you said, we could have gotten this over with days ago. I'm trying to correct my mistake." Her tone had become increasingly brittle.   


Jareth sighed. "I apologize, Sarah. I was angry; I should not have spoken as I did."   


She shrugged slightly. "It was true."   


"You still have not answered the question," Jareth pointed out.   


Sarah closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them, both her eyes and her voice had gone flat. "I waited for a man that loved me, a man that I loved in return."   


At her explanation, everything became very clear. Jareth had not believed that love existed, but among those who did, he had heard it said that sex and love were two very different things. However, they were linked in Sarah's mind, becoming virtually the same. Mix her current belief with a 15-year-old girl's romanticized memory of a strong physical attraction and Sarah had made the assumption that a sexual liaison with him was what she desired most.   


But if sex and love were the same in Sarah's mind, then what, exactly, were her feelings toward him? Could it be that she loved him but was not willing to admit it, either to him or to herself?   


Jareth looked at her silently for a long moment and then moved over in the bed, making room for her.   


"Lie down," he said softly.   


The apprehension that shone out of her eyes was unmistakable but she lifted the bedcovers and slid under them to lie beside him.   


Jareth turned onto his side to face her and watched as she tensed slightly. Wordlessly, he urged her onto her side, facing away from him, and he moved close behind her, slipping his arm around her waist.   


She went rigid.   


"Relax," he said softly into her ear, "and go to sleep."   


"But... But aren't we going to..." she started.   


"No, we are not," he murmured. "Now, go to sleep."   


"But," she tried again, clearly confused.   


"Go to sleep," he said firmly.   


Jareth closed his eyes and, after a few moments, when he made no further movement, he felt her slowly relax against him.   


His last conscious thought before once again falling asleep was that he had to be certain of Sarah's feelings toward him. If he allowed anything physical to happen between them before they each knew how the other felt, she might never forgive him.

--------------------------------   


When Jareth woke, it was early afternoon. Sarah still slept and he rose carefully to avoid waking her and went into the bathroom to shower. The hot water soothed away the last of his exhaustion and then he was dry and dressed with barely a conscious thought. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and grinned. He would have to change. It would not do to walk out in his customary style of clothing and high boots. He tilted his head and now he wore the black suit that Sarah had procured for him. While the fabric and cut of the clothing was excellent, he would be very happy to return to more familiar garments.   


When he went back into the living room, he found that Sarah was already awake and had dressed and made up the bed. She was now sitting on the sofa, sipping a cup of tea. She picked up a second mug from the coffee table and held it out to him.   


"You want to explain to me what happened last night?" she said abruptly. Before he could reply, she answered her own question. "You talked the Labyrinth into curing me, didn't you? That's why I didn't even have a bump on my head when I woke up."   


Jareth sidestepped her assumption.   


"When I found you, you were already unconscious." He hesitated only a moment. "You were very badly injured."   


Sarah blanched. "How badly?"   


"You were dying," Jareth answered evenly.   


"Dying?" Sarah shook her head in stunned disbelief. "You must have been mistaken."   


"No," he said softly, shuddering at the memory of her limp body in his arms. "I was not mistaken."   


She looked down into her tea.   


"Something pushed me, something I couldn't see," she said slowly. She met his eyes. "That was the Labyrinth, too, wasn't it?"   


"Yes," he replied.   


"But why?" She stiffened suddenly, her eyes going cold. "Was it for you? You were so angry. Did you want it to hurt me?"   


"No," Jareth said vehemently. "It made that decision on its own."   


"Then why?" she cried, jumping to her feet. "Was it because I was _leaving_? I'd already decided to come back and talk to you." Sarah shook her head. "It doesn't care about anyone or anything except itself, does it? It almost let you die, remember? I begged it to take you back and it wouldn't do it."   


Jareth's temper flared and he rose to face her. "Only because you made a bargain with it that it was bound to uphold."   


Sarah's mouth thinned into a straight line and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Then let's get that bargain settled and you can go home. Just don't expect me to tag along with you."   


"You seem to forget, Sarah, that you have a bargain to keep, as well. If things are "settled," as you put it, you have agreed to return to the Labyrinth."   


She held up her hand to stop him from speaking.   


"I'll do what it takes so that you can get your magic back and go home, but I'm not going back to the Underground," she said flatly. "I'm not going to live in a place where a _maze_ is trying to hurt me."   


"It will not harm you again," Jareth replied firmly.   


"Who's going to stop it?" Sarah looked incredulous.   


"I assure you that the Labyrinth will no longer have sole control over its power. I will share that power with it," Jareth said. "You will not to be harmed in any way."   


"Is that supposed to make me feel better? What happens when you and I have another argument? Is it going to decide to punish me while you're asleep? You can't watch both of us 24--oh, excuse me, 26 hours a day," Sarah said derisively. "So let's just get this done and you can go home. Alone."   


Jareth ignored her words and tilted his head, regarding her seriously. Perhaps it was time to bring certain things out into the open. "Why are you so certain that having sex with me is what you desire most?"   


Sarah's cheeks flamed red and she looked away from him.   


"What else could it be? It certainly fits this scenario. It's like the story about the monkey's paw. You end up getting your wish, but when you do, it isn't what you wanted at all."   


"What do you mean?" Jareth demanded.   


"I told you--I waited because I wanted my first time to be special," she said bitterly, "and now it's going to be with a man who doesn't love me."  


She drew herself up and looked at him, challenge in her eyes. "So, do you want to go home or not?"   


Jareth started to speak and then paused. There was something about what she said... He thought back over her earlier words.   


_I waited for a man that loved me, a man that I loved in return._   


But she had not completed her sentence. She had only stated that he did not love her. She should have continued, saying that she did not love him either. Or she should have emphasized that she did not love him. But she did neither.   


Perhaps her phrasing meant nothing. Or perhaps it meant everything.   


Jareth remembered the gifts she had given him, her interest in his life and his family, the way she had calmly accepted that they would marry, and most particularly, he remembered that soft emotion flickering in her eyes after their dance.

His eyes narrowed speculatively.   


"Sarah, what are your feelings toward me?" he asked.   


He watched her mouth drop open slightly but, to her credit, she recovered quickly.   


"At this particular moment in time?" she said sarcastically. "Right now, I'm kind of pissed off at you."   


He smiled. She truly should have been fae. Even when angry, she was still quick-witted enough to deflect a question she did not wish to answer. Unfortunately, he did not intend to give her a choice.   


"I will ask my last question now," he said, his smile widening. "Or, more accurately, I will ask my first question now."   


"What are you talking..." Sarah's mouth closed with an audible snap as she remembered that Jareth still had the first question that he had won, the one without a time limit. He still had one last question that required her to give a complete and totally honest answer.   


Her eyes suddenly widened in alarm.   


"Ah, good, I see that you remember." Jareth's voice was silky. "So, tell me, Sarah, do you love me?"   


--------------------------------   



	16. Looking Forward and Back

The Enticement  
by Scattered Logic   


Disclaimer: Jareth and Sarah belong to Jim Henson. Everyone else is mine.   


Author's Note: Thanks to my beta, Cormak, for her thoughts and suggestions. Thanks also to Lady Jamie, The Hooded Crow, Saxonny and Solea for their support and encouragement. 

Additional Author's Note: This chapter has been heavily edited due to sexual content before posting to the FanFiction.net site. The unabridged chapter is posted on my website for those who wish to read the author's intended version.  


--------------------------------   


As Jareth spoke, Sarah suddenly felt as if she couldn't breathe. Had she been so obvious in her feelings? And why was he asking this now? Did he intend to humiliate her?

"What does it matter to you? You've made it clear that you don't believe in love." She forced her tone to remain even.

To her surprise, his smug smile faded away.

"My opinion has changed," he said quietly.

"Why?" Sarah asked. She was actually curious, but she also saw an opportunity to deflect his attention. Perhaps if she could change the subject slightly...

Jareth's eyes locked with hers.

"_Do you love me_?" His tone was commanding.

Her shoulders slumped. There was no way out. She had promised to answer truthfully. Sarah straightened, lifted her chin defiantly and steeled herself for his ridicule.

"Yes, I love you," she said clearly.

Jareth didn't speak; he merely took two steps forward. She caught a confused glimpse of his burning eyes before he pulled her to him and then his mouth was on hers.

There was nothing gentle in his kiss. It was fiercely possessive and Sarah was shaking by the time Jareth pulled back and buried his face in her hair. He held her tightly, his breathing harsh, and yet he still hadn't spoken.

"Well, that certainly wasn't the reaction I was expecting," she said breathlessly.

"I almost lost you," he murmured in her ear.

Sarah's heart was suddenly pounding. He sounded so forlorn. She tried to pull back to look into his face, but his arms held her fast.

"Would you have cared?" she asked, her heart seemed to have moved up and was now lodged in her throat.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Why?" She struggled to force the word out, terrified of his answer, but she had to know. She had to know exactly what he was saying.

Jareth finally drew back slightly. "It seems that you were accurate," he said with a small smile. "Love does exist."

Sarah had the most absurd desire to laugh. He didn't believe in love. How many times had he told her that? But the emotion she saw shining in his eyes made her inhale sharply. Any moment now, she thought vaguely, her heart was simply going to burst.

"You have to say it, you know," she said quickly.

A teasing glint came into his eyes. "I have already admitted that you were correct," he said imperiously. "What more do you want?"

She smiled, but it trembled around the edges. She took a deep breath and said, "I love you, Jareth."

And she looked up at him, patiently waiting.

Jareth tilted his head, bemused. How was it possible that hearing four words could bring about so much contentment? Only a few days ago, he would have sworn on his life that he would never speak as he was about to, and certainly not to the woman standing before him now.

"I love you, Sarah," he said gently, and was immediately alarmed when the object of his affections promptly burst into tears. "What is wrong?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she sobbed. "Everything is wonderful."

"Then why are you crying?" he asked, confused.

"Because everything is wonderful." She leaned her forehead against his chest and struggled to get her tears under control.

Jareth shook his head slightly. "I can see I still have a great deal to learn about humans," he sighed, conjuring a handkerchief. "Here, dry your tears."

Sarah looked up and took the white silk square from him. "Thank you," she said and began wiping her eyes. In a moment, she drew back and looked at the handkerchief in confusion.

There hadn't been any handkerchiefs in the boxes of clothing she'd given Jareth.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Do you not care for the color? Is it too plain?" His eyes suddenly gleaming, he plucked an elaborately embroidered pale peach handkerchief from thin air. "Perhaps this is more to your taste?"

Sarah's eyes grew huge and her mouth dropped open. "When did you get your magic back?" she gasped.

"Last night," he smiled and with a flick of his wrist, the extra handkerchief vanished.

"Last night?" she echoed blankly, confusion apparent on her face. "But how? We haven't..." Her voice trailed away and she shook her head. "I don't understand."

Jareth sobered and he gestured toward the sofa. "Sit with me, I will explain."

Carefully, he began recounting the events of the previous night. As he spoke, Sarah's confusion gave way to alarm.

"I _died_?" she interrupted, incredulous.

"I am not certain that the Labyrinth intended to kill. Pushing you and hoping that you would injure yourself seriously enough to die is a bit haphazard for an entity that could have simply reached out and snapped your neck."

Sarah's expression quickly became horrified.

"But you need not worry, Sarah," he hastened to add, "I swear that it will never hurt you again."

She choked slightly. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because it no longer controls its magic alone." Jareth's voice grew icy and Sarah had the distinct impression that he was no longer speaking solely for her benefit. "And because I will destroy it if it harms you in any way."

Sarah sat silently for a moment, trying to comprehend what Jareth had told her. It seemed unbelievable.

"I don't feel like I died. Shouldn't I feel different in some way?" she asked in a small voice.

He took her hand and traced patterns on her palm with a gloved forefinger. "But _you_ didn't die. When I reordered time, all that changed." His expression darkened and he looked down at her hand. "I was the only one outside the spell. Therefore, I was the only one who witnessed..." He shook his head, refusing to go on.

Sarah went cold. She remembered her fear and panic when she had first seen Jareth lying unconscious on her living room floor. Even before she had fallen in love with him, the pain that had rose up when she'd believed him dead had been horrible. Jareth had known that he loved her and had been forced to helplessly watch her die. Were there even words for that kind of agony? She shivered and reached out to brush his cheek with her fingertips.

"But I'm fine now," she said softly, "because of you."

Jareth looked up and her breath caught in her throat at the pain in his eyes. "You must never do that again, Sarah. I did not like it." His tone was plaintive and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

"I'll remember that," she said, blinking back tears. She turned her face slightly into the softness of his hair, breathing in his scent. Jareth loved her. She wasn't certain how it had happened or why, but those things were unimportant. All that mattered was that he loved her. 

A giddy feeling swept over her and she hesitated only a moment before pressing her lips against his throat. At his shuddering intake of breath, she tipped up her head to tentatively kiss the soft spot under his ear. When he tilted his head to grant her easier access, she smiled, suddenly much more sure of herself. A slight nip on his earlobe and his arms tightened around her. A few light kisses along his jaw and then she was at the corner of his mouth.

"Did you know that since you told me you love me, you haven't kissed me?" she whispered, her mouth only a breath away from his.

His eyes darkened and he kissed her hard, leaning into her, pushing her down onto the sofa. Sarah found herself lying with Jareth half on top of her and she gasped at the sharp ache set off by the feeling of his weight on her.

His lips covered hers again, his tongue doing the most wonderful things. His hand came up and cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing over her hardened nipple through her blouse and bra, and Sarah moaned softly into his mouth.

Jareth broke the kiss and sat up, pulling her up with him. He stood and wordlessly removed his gloves, tossing them onto the coffee table. She watched him, puzzled for a moment, but when he held out his hands to her, Sarah understood. She placed her hands in his and he drew her to her feet. He pressed a soft kiss onto her lips and then he turned and led her into the bedroom.

--------------------------------   


The brief respite from the heat of his mouth and body allowed the realization of what they were about to do to come flooding into Sarah's mind with startling clarity. Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted Jareth, she had no doubts about that, but an icy sliver of fear trickled down her spine nonetheless.

"Jareth, I..." she stopped as her voice simply gave out. He paused, standing at the edge of her bed and waited patiently for her to continue. Taking a deep breath, she made another attempt.

"I don't want to disappoint you," Sarah said softly. "You've been with experienced women and... " She cleared her throat and tried one last time. "I'm afraid that you're not going to enjoy this very much. I don't know exactly what I'm doing."

He smiled faintly and pressed a soft kiss onto her lips. "Has it not occurred to you that I am equally as concerned about disappointing you?"

Sarah looked at up him, surprise evident on her face. "But you've done this before."

"Not with you," Jareth answered, his smile widening. His fingers stroked her neck gently. "We shall both learn. Together, we will learn what pleases you, and I will teach you what pleases me."

--------------------------------   


Much later, Sarah snuggled close to him, resting her head against his chest, listening to his pounding heartbeat as it began to drop back into its normal rhythm.

"This is going to sound really corny," she said softly, "but I'm glad I waited for you."

"And I am glad that I found you," he replied simply.

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. "You know," she said, her voice taking on a teasing tone, "you promised me a next time, but," she gave a pointed glance downward, "you don't seem to be in any condition to live up to your promises."

Surprised at her sudden boldness, Jareth burst out laughing. "You are going to be quite insatiable, aren't you?"

She pretended to think for a moment and then nodded thoughtfully. "I believe that I am."

He smirked and brushed a hand teasingly over her breast until she gasped. "Then I shall have to keep your attention diverted until I am able to live up to your expectations of me."

--------------------------------   


The next morning, Sarah stood in the living room looking around the cabin.

"Are you ready to go?" Jareth asked.

She glanced over at him and took in the boots, tight breeches and leather jacket with a smile. As good as he had looked in those expensive suits, it was oddly comforting to see him in his usual finery.

"I'm going to miss this place," she said wistfully.

"There is no need for you to give it up entirely," Jareth said, his eyes gleaming. "I have rather fond memories of certain events that took place here."

She grinned. "Me, too, but I think it's best if I sign everything over to Gary. He'll take care of the cabin and I know he'll let us come back to visit whenever we want."

"Well, then," Jareth said, holding out his hand,"let us go see your friend."

Sarah placed her hand in his and they vanished.

--------------------------------   


They reappeared outside of Gary's apartment.

Sarah shook her head slightly. "How long will it take to get used to that?" she asked. "It makes me kind of dizzy."

"It will be easier when you are able to control it yourself," Jareth assured her. He gestured toward the door. "Are you certain that your friend will be home?"

"It's eight o'clock on a Saturday morning," Sarah said, nodding. "He's probably still asleep."

She knocked firmly on the door and waited.

After a few moments, she saw the peephole darken and heard the sound of bolts being thrown. The door was wrenched open and she caught a flash of Gary, his hair sticking up all over and wearing a bathrobe, before being yanked into his arms. 

"Sarah! Thank god, I've been so worried," he cried as he crushed her into a hug.

"I'm sorry but we couldn't call you," she said, hugging him back. "We were snowed in and you know there's no phone up there."

Gary looked past Sarah and reluctantly released her, his eyebrows flying up as he took in Jareth's clothing.

Sarah caught Gary's expression and she shot him a warning glance. She wrapped her hands around Jareth's arm and drew him into the apartment, kicking Gary's door closed with one foot.

"Gary Nolan, this is Jareth. He's the King of the Goblins," she said, introducing the two men, "and, um, he's my fiancé."

Gary blinked. The last time he had seen this guy he'd been certain that the man was going to die, and now there he stood, and damned if he didn't look like a king. It was in the way he carried himself, in his almost arrogant expression. Or maybe, Gary realized with a start, it was the power that seemed to radiate off of him in waves. 

But why was Jareth dressed as if he'd stepped off the cover of a trashy romance novel? In the next instant, Gary took in what was made clearly evident by the man's tight breeches. 'Oh, Sarah,' he thought with a carefully hidden grin, 'you lucky girl.'

Gary had no idea whether he should shake this guy's hand or bow to him. He finally settled on nodding his head and watched as Jareth similarly inclined his head.

Sarah's words finally penetrated the fog he'd been in since seeing her. "Fiancé? You're getting married?"

She beamed. "Yes."

Gary frowned slightly. "But how? When? What's going on? You've been painting this guy's portrait for as long as I've known you and then he shows up out of the clear blue, practically drops dead, and you just leave with him. And now you're engaged to him? Sarah, I want you to be happy and I don't mean to be rude, but you barely know him. And I'm not even going to get into the whole 'he's fae and you're human' thing because I can't even _fathom_ how to hold that conversation," Gary shook his head, frustration evident in his voice.

As Gary spoke, Jareth's stance changed subtly and his eyes narrowed slightly. Gary sucked in a sharp breath. Sarah had missed it, but he hadn't. The power that Jareth exuded had darkened. Jareth might be dressed like an 18th century fop, but Gary suddenly recognized that, under that delicate exterior, Jareth was an extremely dangerous man, and he was obviously very protective of Sarah.

She brushed off Gary's concerns. "How we got together is a long story," she sighed and then grinned, "but I'm glad that you finally believe me. I told you that it was real. I _told_ you that magic was real."

Gary's expression softened and he reached out to ruffle Sarah's hair. "Yeah, you told me. I just worry about you." He glanced over at Jareth and met his eyes squarely. Even if this guy could turn him into a toad, Gary refused to be intimidated in his own home. "Sarah's a good woman. She deserves to be happy."

For the first time since arriving, Jareth spoke. "Then we agree," he drawled in a melodious voice. "I, too, want her happiness."

Gary glanced over at Sarah's shining face and smiled fondly. He'd never seen her like this. If being with this guy was what caused Sarah to suddenly be so vibrant, then who was he to try to rain on their parade? Besides, he suspected that Jareth wouldn't permit anything to come between them.

Gary looked back at Jareth and nodded slightly. As the two men came to an unspoken understanding, they both relaxed.

"When Sarah told me about the Underground, I always thought that she was just remembering a vivid dream or that it was a realistic fantasy," Gary admitted. "Your existence has kind of shaken my view of the world."

"Things are not always what they seem," Jareth smirked. "And there are more worlds than merely this one."

"Yeah, I've found that out," Gary said, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "I'm just not certain that's a comforting thing to know. Um, I'm going to make some coffee and get dressed, so make yourself at home."

While they waited in Gary's living room, Jareth walked over to the portrait standing on an easel in the corner.

Sarah smiled when she saw that Gary hadn't moved it. The painting was in exactly the same position that she had left it when she'd been so determined to hide it from Jareth.

"This is the painting of your dream?" Jareth asked Sarah over his shoulder. "The dream in which we danced?"

"That's it," Sarah said, moving to his side.

"I do not know these women," Jareth said dismissively and then his gaze turned contemplative. "Nor do I have a jacket similar to this. Although, I like the cut and I look quite attractive in that shade of blue."

"Of all the things about you, I think I love your modesty the most," she teased.

"I shall have my tailor prepare a similar jacket and we shall dance. Would that please you?" Jareth looked at her with a teasing smile.

"Only if you promise to put the blue streaks in your hair, too," Sarah grinned.

Jareth tilted his head and examined his hair in the painting thoughtfully. He glanced at her. "The effect is very flattering," he said seriously.

Sarah laughed as Gary came back into the room, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and carrying a cup of coffee.

"Can I get either of you something to drink? Something to eat?" Gary asked.

Both of them declined and Sarah sat on the sofa, patting the seat next to her.

"Gary, I've got a business proposition for you," she said briskly, as he sat down. "How would you like to be the proud owner of a mountain cabin and a car?"

While Sarah and her friend discussed the transfer of Sarah's property into Gary's name, Jareth prowled around the living room, pausing to examine the contents of a large bookcase. There, he found copies of the books that Sarah had illustrated but also several reference books, including a world almanac and atlas. He pulled them out and, taking a seat in an armchair, he began to leaf through them.

After a few minutes, Sarah rose and Jareth glanced up at her.

"Gary and I are going to run down to my apartment. I'm going to get the paperwork I need. You want to come with us?" she asked.

"I shall stay here and look through these books," Jareth said. "It will give you an opportunity to freely discuss me with your friend." He smirked at her knowingly.

"Now what makes you think that we'll talk about you?" she teased, but then rolled her eyes and gave him a wry glance. "Thanks."

Jareth grinned.

--------------------------------   


Downstairs in Sarah's apartment, she found the deed to the cabin and the title to the car. She carried them into her living room where Gary sat, perched on the arm of the sofa.

"I can see that you're happy, Sarah. But are you certain about marrying him? You're going to be living in another _world_, you're not just moving across town," Gary said, concern apparent in his voice.

"Jareth said that I can come back and visit. It's not like I'll never see you again," she said firmly. "I love him, Gary, and we're getting married. So, be happy for me."

Gary threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, that's all I needed to hear. I'm glad for you, Sarah. It's not every girl who manages to end up with the handsome prince."

"King," she corrected with a smile. "And Jareth says that it's possible for you to come to the wedding. You will come, right?" Her expression became concerned.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Gary assured her. When she brightened, he leaned forward. "Okay, I have to ask, does he dress like that all the time?"

"As far as I can tell," she said with a shrug.

"You know," Gary lowered his voice confidentially, "if you had described that outfit to me, I would have sworn that nobody--and I mean _nobody_--could pull it off. But he really does."

--------------------------------   


All too soon, it was time for Sarah and Jareth to leave. Gary smiled wistfully at Sarah and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I'm thrilled for you, but when I told you to find a guy to whisk you away, this wasn't exactly what I meant," he whispered into her ear.

"Well, the Underground doesn't exactly qualify as the 'burbs," she admitted. "And I have the strong feeling that we're going to end up with more than 2.5 kids. But some of his subjects might qualify as 'large slobbery dogs'."

Gary gave her a dubious look. "I think it's best that I don't even ask."

Sarah laughed and kissed his cheek. "I'll be back to visit soon." She turned to Jareth. "So, are you ready to go home now?" she asked, slipping her hand into his.

Jareth hesitated. "Actually, I have a place I wish to visit before we return."

--------------------------------   


When Sarah opened her eyes, she didn't recognize her surroundings. Sunset was close and they were standing in a wooded area at the edge of an open field. Jareth stepped forward, the frozen grass crunching under his boots, and she followed, puzzled. She glanced around and her eyes were drawn to a flag fluttering high on a hill to her left. No, she correctly quickly, not a flag--a battle standard. A pang went through her as she recognized the white boar and the white rose-en-soleil on the pennant.

They were at Bosworth Field.

She hung back, watching Jareth as he strode down a pathway toward a large diamond shaped rock standing within a paved circle of concrete. His head turned from side to side as he surveyed the terrain with a strategist's eye, his expression growing progressively colder with each step he took.

Sarah caught up with him at the rock. It was a monument, she realized. A few white roses lay scattered on the ground and one pale, long-stemmed rose was twined between the stone and a plaque mounted there. Sarah stood at Jareth's side, reading the inscription.  
  
"Richard, the last Plantagenet King of England, was slain here 22nd August 1485."

The failing rays of the sun suddenly cast a blood red glow over the plaque and Sarah shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her.

"He should have won," Jareth said sharply, gesturing toward the hill where the battle standard flew. "King Richard led the charge from that position and he had the superior force. But in the end, he lost his life and his crown due to treason."

"Lord Stanley betrayed him," Sarah murmured. "He and his men held back, refusing to engage Henry Tudor's army."

"And in death, King Richard suffered the ignobility of being branded a monster, a murderer of children, with no more proof than whispers of gossip and fireside tales." Jareth's voice was contemptuous.

He turned away abruptly and walked out into the field, obviously lost in thought. Sarah remained at the monument to give Jareth his privacy, idly brushing her fingers against the soft petals of the rose on the stone.

When the last of the light threatened to completely fade from the sky, Jareth returned to her. She looked at his face closely.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly.

He nodded and held out his hand. "Let us go home," he said, "I am done with this place. This is the past and we have our future ahead of us."

Sarah smiled and as his fingers closed around hers, they vanished.

But the ground around the monument was suddenly ringed with crystal vases filled with white roses--a final gesture from one maligned king to another.

  
--------------------------------   


The End

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From the Author: I would like to thank each of my readers. Your feedback and encouragement has meant more to me than you'll ever know. I attempted to thank each of you personally, but there were several readers who made comments who did not leave an email address. Be assured that I appreciated your reviews very much.

The Enticement was started on February 03, 2003 and completed on June 12, 2003.


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